


Dragon Tales

by Shelaar (JonathanAnubian)



Series: The Dragon Kingdom [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Betrayal, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Forbidden Love, Genderbending, Hurt/Comfort, Life Debt, Love Confessions, M/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pack Dynamics, Physical Abuse, Rating Changed, Teen Crush, Uxoricide, You Have Been Warned, artwork, treatise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/Shelaar
Summary: A collection of stories from the Dragon Kingdom of Mandalore.
Relationships: CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix, Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe, RC-1207 | Delta-07 | Sev/Null-6 | Kom'rk Skirata
Series: The Dragon Kingdom [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724629
Comments: 59
Kudos: 202





	1. The Wolf and the Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple love story.

For once he and his brothers were on a hunt without their hounds, tracking game together like the pack their peers accused them of being. Laamic knelt, sniffing at some hoof prints on the ground. A whistle sounding eerily reminiscent of a local bird call caught both of their attention as Ca’galaar and Sho’sen materialized out of the forest.

‘Report.’ Wolffe signed at his brothers.

‘Horse tracks, sole outsider.’ The four of them shared a look. This was clearly within the borders of Mandalore. How someone thought they could traipse around unmolested was beyond them.

‘I’ll confront them, you stay hidden.’ His brothers frowned at him but he just stared them down. They may have been born on the same day, rare as that was, but he was still the oldest and strongest.

Following Sho’sen’s markings they silently stalked closer to a small clearing near a brook. Peering through the bushes at the stranger Wolffe’s eyes widened in surprise. What he had expected was some sneaky trader or a lost bandit. What he found was a beautiful woman with lightly tanned skin, light brown hair pinned neatly to her head, and hazel green eyes. Her horse was grazing nearby as she sat on a rock eating trail rations, seeming content. She was almost the same height as he and his brothers, if he had to guess, but she was far more slender. At her hip was a longsword with cloth wrapped around the entirety of the hilt. Rather than the usual dress he’d seen outsider females wear, she was wearing loose trousers tucked into sturdy boots with three layers of tunics beneath a leather jerkin.

 _“You may come join me, if you wish. I’m not going to attack you.”_ He stilled for a moment before standing from his crouch and walking confidently into the clearing. Even if she were an enemy he had a lot of back up.

 _“You’re far from home, outsider.”_ The woman looked up at him for a moment, contemplating him carefully but not unkindly.

 _“You are Mandalorian… have I really come so far?”_ The second half she said almost to herself, shaking her head before looking back up at him. _“Forgive me, I am Peony Connifer. May I ask your name?”_ Wolffe could sense no hostility from her, she was as serene as the bubbling brook next to her, but there was still something… off.

 _“Wolffe Gaarla, of Clan Gaarla. Why are you in our lands?”_ The woman’s expression darkened and for a moment he thought she was angry that he’d asked her a question. But her anger didn’t seem directed at him, rather at something distant.

 _“I am chasing a group of monsters.”_ Wolffe scowled. If she was referring to his people he didn’t care that she was a woman, he would rip her throat out. She seemed to notice how tense he’d become and held up her hand, motioning for him to wait while she explained. _“They are pretending to be a group of traders but are, in actuality, slavers. Normally I would not follow them into your lands, they are not safe for someone like me. But these slavers deal in children. Their depravity and cruelty know no end. When I find them, I will be hard pressed to show any leniency.”_ There was a fierce light in her eyes, a sharp anger that he understood deeply.

 _“Not safe for someone like you?”_ His eyes fell to her wrapped sword and realization struck him like a lightning bolt. “Jetii.” He growled.

 _“Yes, I am.”_ No lies, no deflection, just a simple answer. _“What are you going to do?”_ Her voice was even, no hint of anger or fear. Only curiosity. Wolffe paced for a moment, conflicted.

 _“I’ll help you find these slavers. If what you say is true then they will find no mercy.”_ Crossing into Mandalore without going through the proper channels was a good way to get yourself killed by accident if you didn’t have a trading pass or a good explanation. Dealing in slavery? A fast route to living the rest of your days in a dungeon. Hurting and enslaving children? All bets were off. If the jetii wasn’t lying then those demagolka were about to find out what happens when they piss off the Mando’ade.

 _“I?”_ She asked with an amused lilt to her voice. _“Or we?”_ She motioned with her hand toward the places his brothers had hidden and he cursed. Of course she’d be able to sense them.

“Come out, she knows you’re there.” He called. Three vehement curses reached his ears and he snorted in amusement. At least he wasn’t the only one on the back foot. When his brothers appeared he was gratified to see her eyes widen as she looked between them. There were questions on her lips, curiosity in her eyes, but she kept quiet.

 _“These are my brothers._ Ca’galaar, Sho’sen, _and_ Laamic.” He pointed toward each as he spoke. _“We were all born on the same day.”_ The answer only seemed to make her even more curious but she nodded in understanding.

 _“Please, sit, if you have the need. I was only taking a short rest. I will be taking up the trail again in a few moments.”_ His brothers looked at each other and shrugged before plonking themselves down on the grass around her.

 _“If you’re a_ jetii _then what rank are you?”_ Ca’galaar asked her suddenly. She smiled at him and it did something a little odd to Wolffe’s stomach.

 _“I’m a Senior Knight. I’ve passed all of my trials and raised a Squire to Knighthood.”_ There was a fond look that crossed her face as she spoke. Almost like a proud aunt thinking of their sibling’s children.

 _“What trials?”_ Sho’sen asked, raising his brow questioningly. Wolffe had to admit that they didn’t really know much of the jetii, outside of the most important details. Like how to kill one as quickly and efficiently as possible.

 _“There is the trial of combat, which is self explanatory.”_ She patted the hilt of her sword for emphasis. _“The trial of spirit, the trial of knowledge, the trial of duty, and then the oaths.”_ Her smile turned a little regretful. _“Unfortunately I can’t explain what happens in the trial of spirit. My oaths prevent me of speaking about it to others.”_ Laamic’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

 _“Others? Or outsiders?”_ Her smiled turned almost wicked.

 _“Clever.”_ She praised with a gentle laugh of amusement. _“I may not speak of it to anyone, not even other jedi. It is a very personal experience.”_ Wolffe made a thoughtful noise.

 _“Then how do you know if you passed the trial?”_ Her eyes caught his and he fought back a challenging growl.

 _“I will just have to ask that you believe me when I say, if you did not pass- you would know.”_ There was a hardness in her voice, a certainty that he couldn’t deny. Whether it was the unbiased truth or it was something she believed wholeheartedly. He wasn’t going to question it. It was jetii business anyway.

Once the jetii had rested she went to see to her horse as the four of them spoke.

“She’s a jetii, Wolffe. Are we really going to help her?” Sho’sen asked, eying her warily.

“We can always just go find these slavers ourselves. It wouldn’t be difficult at all.” Laamic shrugged.

“Yes, she’s a jetii. We can’t just leave her alone in our territory. Unless you want to kill her in cold blood before we even know if she’s lying or not- I suggest we go with her. If she’s lying and up to no good we can kill her. If she’s telling the truth she can help us save those kids and then make sure she leaves. The kids might have families who want them back. She can take care of that.” Ca’galaar said reasonably.

“We’ll tag along with her for now. If something happens we can get the Clan involved.” They all agreed and joined the jetii when she was ready.

The next two weeks were strange, to say the least.

The woman was attentive to them, surprisingly compliant when they gave her an order and welcoming when she spoke to them. She knew her abilities bothered them so she kept them under wraps, like her sword. Surprisingly she was also very knowledgeable about the local plants. She could identify and differentiate between them all with an accuracy that was almost unnerving. Especially since they knew some of the plants she identified could only be found in Mandalore.

 _“How do you know so much about plants?”_ Laamic finally asked one night around the fire as she took her turn to make their meal. She had insisted on doing her share after the first three nights. She looked up from the slowly roasting hare and cocked her head to the side.

 _“Hmm, I suppose you don’t know much about jedi and how our Order operates.”_ She sprinkled something over the roasting meat and the smell made his mouth water. This was only the second time she’d prepared the meal, since they still weren’t too sure how much they could trust her. _“The jedi Order is broken up into multiple Disciplines. To become a Knight you must be proficient in at least two disciplines as well as master the sword. I chose to become an Elamentalist and an Herbalist.”_ She smiled gently, her eyes kind. _“If one of you becomes injured I cannot heal you with magic, though I suspect you would not allow me to in any case. But I can make poultices and medicines to help with the pain and any infection.”_ Wolffe had never really wanted to learn about the jetii way of life but he could admit that hearing her talk was intriguing.

When night fell he spent his time on guard duty wondering why he found the jetii so compelling. If it was some kind of trick… well, he just hoped it wasn’t. Mando’ad did not take well to betrayal.

The next day they crossed back out of Mandalore towards a pass they all knew was dangerous. There were beasts that lived in the pass that were deadly if one wasn’t prepared. They hurried their pace. If the slavers were that desperate there was no telling what they’d do. But if they were just ignorant they were going to get themselves, and the kids, killed.

When they finally caught up to the slavers they were being attacked by leathery winged flying creatures with sharp beaks, glowing eyes, and taloned claws. Nynirgal’aray. The slavers where shooting them with bows, their covered wagon torn. From where he was standing he could see huddled forms inside, small shapes that clung to one another in fear. His anger spiked and he barked orders to his still stunned brothers.

 _“I’ll see about distracting those creatures while you protect the children!”_ The jetii yelled at him as she unsheathed her sword. He turned to tell her not to be stupid, Nynirgal’aray were fast, had wings, and were highly venomous. There was no way she could-

The woman reached up to the cloak pin at her throat and released it. Not once during the entire journey had she taken off her cloak, even when it seemed as if she might be too warm. Wolffe sucked in a breath. Now they knew why. Four slender insect-like wings unfolded from her back, shimmering like glass in what little light filtered down into the pass. The jetii was a Fairy. She leapt into the air, the wings snapping outward to catch the wind, and flew at the Nynirgal’aray with sword in hand.

Laamic looked over at him in wide-eyed confusion. “Keep those things off her!” The man pulled out his bow and turned his attention to the creatures as Wolffe led the others to attack the slavers.

The fight was long and hard, the constant interruptions by the venomous beasts above making things more difficult. A bright flash of light above them and a loud crack made them all duck and look to the sky. One of the Nynirgal’aray fell to the ground in a smoking heap, fine lines snaking across it’s gray skin in a familiar pattern. He watched as she rose once again and aimed her sword at an incoming creature. There was a small flicker of light at the hilt of the sword before something bright and green flashed along the bade. A crack of thunder split the air again as the green lightning struck down another Nynirgal’aray. Wolffe couldn’t help the almost giddy grin crossing his face. He should have known there was something else behind that kind face and gentle voice. Her eyes held too much fire for a weakling.

There was a startled yelp and he turned to see one of the slavers holding a child up, blade to their neck. The man’s back was turned to him, since he was facing off against Ca’galaar. His brother’s eyes caught him for a moment and a silent understanding passed between them. Wolffe snuck up on the man as his brother tried to keep his attention.

He was just pulling out his boot knife to stab the slaver in the back of the neck when something shrieked above him. The man whirled, letting go of the child, and slashed his sword across Wolffe’s face. He screamed in pain and dropped to one knee, hand going to his face. Blood flowed past his fingers and splattered against the dark earth. He heard the sounds of battle around him but it was as if they were distant, muffled somehow.

“Wolffe!” He turned to face whoever was calling his name and watched the jetii skewer the Nynirgal’aray with her sword. Her attention was immediately on him, worry on her face, and in her voice. _“You’ll be okay, Wolffe, you’ll be okay.”_ It sounded more like a prayer than reassurance.

There was movement behind her and he tried to warn the jetii but it was too late. The dying Nynirgal’aray rose up and slashed down at her with it’s venomous beak, cutting into her shoulder. She cried out in pain, turned, and did something with jetii magic that threw the beast back into a rocky wall. She smiled at him, face pale. _“Let’s get you over to the wagon.”_

It was a terrible end to the battle but they won. Laamic and Ca’gaalar drove the wagon back out of the pass as Sho’sen helped administer aid. The jetii said she was fine but they all knew it was a lie. Nynirgal’aray were venomous. It was only a matter of time before she succumbed.

Regardless of her health she cleaned the wound on Wolffe’s face and bandaged it with delicate hands. When she was finished she made to move away from him but stopped when he reached out to grab her by the wrist.

 _“You are one of the most reckless people I have ever met.”_ She looked a little surprised and a sheepish smile crossed her face. _“You are also the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”_ A faint blush colored her cheeks and her eyes filled with warmth. Wolffe grinned, bringing her hand to his lips. He knew exactly how shameless he was being. _“Thank you, for saving my life.”_ She smiled at him almost shyly.

 _“You’re welcome, Wolffe… maybe now you’ll call me Peony instead of_ Jetii _all the time.”_ He heard Sho’sen burst into laughter and grumbled playfully.

 _“Fine. Peony, then.”_ Her blush darkened, her eyes dancing with amusement and joy.

 _“I must help the children. Get some rest, Wolffe.”_ Regretfully he let go of her wrist and watched her with his one uncovered eye as she started helping his brother with the children.

It took them a week to get to the nearest fort and by the time they arrived Wolffe was getting desperate. After two days of travel Peony had come down with a fever, then chills, by the third day she’d suddenly collapsed. Since then they’d been trying to keep her comfortable but Sho’sen wasn’t a true healer. The moment they were allowed into the fort Wolffe was calling for a priest.

They took Peony to the shrine and carefully set her down on the bed for the priest to inspect. The man looked at them and Wolffe could see it in his eyes. The jetii wasn’t going to make it.

“The venom has done something to the spirit leeches inside her body. They’re attacking her, stealing her life force.” He shook his head. Wolffe looked down at her and clenched his fists.

“I am Wolffe of Clan Gaarla, I wish to claim this person for my clan.” He could feel his brothers stir behind him. Claiming someone without the permission of the Clan leader wasn’t forbidden per se, but it wasn’t looked upon favorably either.

“If we give her the elixir chances are high that she’ll die.” Wolffe heard Sho’sen speak up behind him.

“She’ll die either way. We’re behind my brother in this, we claim her for our clan.” He felt a swelling of gratitude for his brothers and gained strength from their support.

“I’ll deal with any repercussions myself… please.” The priest looked into his eyes and saw something. He relented and went to prepare the elixir.

Wolffe stood next to Peony, hands stroking her hair away from her face gently. “We’ve got you.”

* * *

The healer looked at the gathered family members as she came out into the main room and smiled. “Everything is well.” His brothers slapped him on the back, wide grins on their faces. Wolffe felt all the tension fall away as relief rushed in to take its place. Looking up at him Hemlock smiled happily. The twins, Ray and Echinacea, were a little too young to understand what was going on but they stopped fussing as all the adults began to relax around them.

“Come on, let’s go see your buir and new vod’ika.” Entering the room he melted at the sight of his riduur. She was holding a small bundle and although she looked exhausted there was a serene smile on her face. She looked over at them and held out a hand to their eldest. Hemlock dashed over to look at the new baby.

“Alright, sweetheart?” He asked, shifting the twins in his arms. Her eyes were filled with love as she nodded. Whatever worry still filled him disappeared entirely.

“I want you to meet someone.” She said, voice teasing and filled with joy.

“Oh?” He said with an amused smile.

“This is Tulip, our new daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations and Notes:
> 
> Nynirgal’aray- A mishmash of Mando’a to represent the mythological creature known as a Codrille. Although my version is a little different.  
> How did they make a Dragon’s Elixir without Jango?- They have dried blood they keep for emergencies. It’s one of the reasons Jango travels so much.  
> Riduur- Mate, Spouse, Husband/Wife, non-gendered word for partner.
> 
> Dramatis Personae:
> 
> Wolffe Gaarla, male.  
> (Plo Koon) Peony Connifer, female, Storm Fae turned Mandalorian.  
> (Comet) Ca’galaar Gaarla, male.  
> (Sinker) Sho’sen Gaarla, male.  
> (Boost) Laamic Gaarla, male.
> 
> (Hevy) Hemlock Gaarla, male.  
> (Fives) Ray Gaarla, male, twin of Echinacea.  
> (Echo) Echinacea ‘Eyayah’ Gaarla, female, twin of Ray.  
> (Tup) Tulip Gaarla, female.


	2. Little Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boba was having a bad day. Then he met Tulip.

People were the worst.

Stalking down the halls with his hands clenched into fists he ignored those he passed and glared at anyone who got in his way. Just minutes ago he had finally been released from a tortuously long tutoring session involving politics and diplomacy. Two things Boba hated with a fiery passion, and both had to do with people.

Everyone knew that Cody was going to be the one to take over when their father stepped down. No one was foolish enough to think that their Mand’alor would die before his time, the man was practically invincible. And even if something happened to Cody there was still Rex, who was far better with people than Boba was.

Waving at a couple of the trainers he entered the kennels and headed for the very back rooms. The last time he’d visited the kennels Wolffe mentioned a new litter of wolfhound pups. He was excited to play with the big loping dogs and wondered if this time he’d find a hound for himself. So far he just hadn’t found a hound that he felt he could trust with his life. He couldn’t really explain it but thankfully Wolffe knew what he meant regardless and just accepted that he hadn’t found the right one yet.

Coming into the back he heard a voice but ignored it. There would be handlers and trainers going in and out. Hearing them talk to one another or the animals wasn’t all that new to him. But as he approached the rooms where they kept new mothers and their pups he slowed his steps, head cocking to the side in confusion.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away.” The voice was quiet but steady, kind, and unwavering. He stepped up to the door only to find it already open. Peeking inside he saw a girl about his own age. She had dark brown hair that was pulled up into a high ponytail, though some of it had some loose and was hanging around her face, with soft golden brown eyes and tanned skin. She was wearing the same uniforms as the other handlers except…

“The other night dear, as I lay sleeping. I dreamt I held you in my arms.” She turned around, giggling when one of the puppies flopped over onto her feet. As she continued to sing he saw a long slender gap in the back of her tunics. Laying almost flat against her back were long pieces of what he assumed was some kind of soft pink fabric. “When I awoke dear my heart was broken, so please don’t take my sunshine away.” Stepping further into the room, trying to get a better look at the strange girl he didn’t know, he accidentally kicked a small bucket of water. It fell over with a clatter, spilling the water down the few stairs and onto the floor.

The girl gasped and spun to look at him, hands clasping in front of her chest and shoulders hunching in surprise. Behind her the things he had assumed were fabric sprang into the air, framing her small body. The small wings shimmered faintly, looking almost pearlescent, and he stared at her in awe. It was like walking into a storybook.

The two of them stood there, staring at one another, for a long moment until the large form of Wolffe appeared from the other entrance. The man stopped and looked between them with one eyebrow raised. “Don’t just stand there, Bob’ika. I’m assuming I have you to thank for the mess all over my floor? Go refill the bucket.” He flushed in embarrassment but nodded, coming into the room.

“Yeah, I’ll go.” Grabbing the bucket he walked past the girl, who was watching him less in surprise and more with curiosity now.

He came back with the bucket of water and set it down away from the door, where it should have been before. Wolffe was kneeling next to the mother wolfhound, Selpha if he remembered correctly, and checking her condition. The girl sat nearby playing with one of the puppies as another sat happily in her lap, soaking up the attention she was lavishing on them.

“You’re back, good. Boba I want you to meet Tulip, my youngest child. She was working with her buir in the gardens but asked to come work here with me instead. Tup’ika, this is Boba, the third prince of Mandalore.” The girl’s eyes went wide in her face and she made to stand.

“Don’t.” He said firmly. Maybe a little _too_ firmly... She winced and shrank away from him. He sighed and walked over to her, slowly- as if she were a scared rabbit he didn’t want running away. When he was next t her he knelt on the ground and reached over to pet the puppy in her lap, a small smile on his face. “If you got up then this little one would have made a fuss. That could stress out Selpha.” Tulip relaxed and smiled at him shyly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Boba. Do you like puppies too?” A bright smile crossed his face.

“I like animals. I’m not so good with people.” The girl picked up a toy nearby and threw it for the excitable pups before she turned back to him.

“I don’t think you’re doing so bad.” She smiled and it lit up her eyes. Boba continued to pet the puppy in her lap.

“Thanks, I guess.” He heard Wolffe snort in amusement behind him and glared at the large man. “So,” he turned back to Tulip. “What are those?” He asked, motioning to the wings. They suddenly flattened against her back and her expression fell slightly.

“Oh… my buir was a Fairy before she met Wolffe buir and became Mando’ad. S-so I have wings like her.” She was glancing at her father, looking nervous, and Boba wondered if someone had said something to her about her wings that made her feel insecure. He was a little surprised to find that thought made him really angry. He leaned closer to her, catching her attention, and gave her a wide grin.

“I like them, they’re pretty. Can you fly?” Her faced turned pink with embarrassment and she ducked her head, which made him feel a little embarrassed in return.

“Um, not yet. Buir says that I need to grow into them a little more. But I will be able to fly when I’m older.” He nodded in understanding.

“That’s great! I’ve always wondered what it was like to fly.”

They spent some time playing with the puppies, helping out Wolffe with odd jobs, and talking about the animals they liked best. But eventually he had to head back for dinner.

“I’ll have to introduce you to Nejair next time. He’s my hawk.” The girl smiled at him and he smiled back before waving good-bye.

Maybe some people weren’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working on the main story but this adorable meeting wouldn't stop pestering me to be written. So have some adorableness.


	3. A Study of Mandalorians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After escaping from Mandalore, Obi-wan Kenobi had a lot of time on his hand to reacquaint himself with the Jedi Temple. After looking into what information they had on Mandalore he found the archives sorely lacking.
> 
> So he took it upon himself to rectify the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I can't seen to get the text links to work. If anyone can help me with that I would appreciate it.

A study on Mandalorian Biology and Culture  
~Treatise penned by Squire Obi-wan Kenobi

Mandalorians, or Mando’ade[1] as they prefer to be referred to as, have a very unique and diverse set of biological traits. This study is intended to shed some light into why Mandalorians are so averse to Jedi, how bloodline has little to no meaning to them culturally, and how almost anyone may become a Mandalorian.

First, I would be remiss if I did not explain that Mandalorians are not a species, they are a culture. They are a collective of various species that have cast off their original culture pr people and swore their lives to Manda.[2] While there is a distinction to be made between those born Mandalorian and those who were turned into Mandalorians there is very little, almost non-existent, discrimination between these two groups. Once one has passed the trial they are deemed ‘reborn’ and who they were before is completely erased. The new Mandalorian is welcomed into whichever Clan sponsored their change, often adopting them into a family unit.

In this section I will speak of the Transformation;

From experience I will tell you that the transformation is quite a painful process. A searing heat spreads through the body starting at the core. From my understanding this Be’Manda Behirot[3] is a deadly poison to Mana worms; it is entirely fatal. The stronger the connection to Ether and the more Mana worms one hosts the more likely one is to die from the shock. There seems to be a spiritual aspect to the ritual of transformation but I was unable to gather more information.

The transformation is nigh immediate. One of the first differences I noticed after the change was my eyes. They had brightened significantly, deepened in vibrancy, and gained a slit-pupiled appearance, like that of a large predator. They are referred to as Dragon’s Eyes. My hair also underwent an interesting change, shifting from a more natural red-blonde to a pure medium red. Although it seems that it has little to do with being Mandalorian and more to do with myself as a person.[4]

Some changes that I have not experienced but have seen in others include; pointed teeth with the canines being the most noticeable, hardened nails that are far more sharp than what is typically seen on near-humans, shaped ears that enhance hearing, and in come cases vestigial appendages like tails or wings. But this is all dependent on whether or not someone was born a Mandalorian or not, and what their base species was if they were turned.

In this section I will speak of Abilities, also called Blessings;

The Mand’alor[5], by right of birth or trial, has the ability to sense the presence of Mana worms inside a host; like the majority of Mandalorians. However the Mand’alor’s senses are more attuned to the connection between Host and Ether. From what I could gather this means a Mand’alor can look at a sentient and judge whether or not ingesting the Dragon’s Elixir will transform them or kill them. I have only seen the Mand’alor reject someone’s petition for transformation once and those around him considered it a mercy. They did not, however, turn them away. They were given an Amulet[6] to wear for their own safety and the safety of others.

Some, called Blessed, have abilities that seem on par with our own. I have seen some who have an uncanny ability to commune with animals, the ability to speak mind to mind without the presence of a Bond, and in the rarest case have the ability to manipulate the elements. Primarily they seem to have an uncanny affinity with fire. Many of their artisans and craftsmen are nearly immune to heat and flame.

In this section I will speak of their Culture;

As stated earlier Mandalorian is not a species, but a Culture. They are united in their beliefs and adhere to a strict set of guidelines known as the Resol’nare.[7] These guidelines are as follows; Education, Armor, Self-defense, The Language, The Tribe, and The Mand’alor.

All Mandalorians begin educating their children starting at a young age. They begin with stories and songs, often accompanied by games that help build balance, dexterity, and flexibility. As the child grows they are introduced to different skills focused on survival, problem solving, and long term care of their belongings. They are taught the importance of discipline, honor, duty, respect, honesty, and loyalty.

At the age of fourteen, or base species equivalent, a child is considered an adult by law. Their family will help them forge their first set of true armor and decorate it with colors that represent them and symbols important to the Clan.[8] At this stage in life a Mandalorian may choose to join the army as a Page, become an apprentice to an artisan or craftsman, become betrothed or marry[9], claim new members for their family or Clan with the permission of their clan Patriarch/Matriarch, and challenge another adult to a duel or test of skill if they feel their honor has been impugned.

Self-defense is taught at all ages and is mandatory. Even if a child is not destined to be a warrior they will be expected to know at least one way to defend themselves from danger, even if that way is defensive or evasive rather than aggressive.

The language of Mandalore is Mando’a. It has three spoken variants, High, Common, and Ancient, as well as two unspoken variants, Common Hand Signs and Coded Hand Signs. Common is, as its name implies, the most commonly spoken form of Mando’a. Lamyc Mando’a, High Mando’a, is used for official and formal functions. Important ceremonies and rituals mostly. Mando’a, Common, is used by everyone in day to day life. Wer Mando’a, or Ancient, is used when reciting old texts, legends, or songs. Tigaan, translating to With Hand, is the common hand signs taught to all Mandalorians. It is useful during hunting, on campaigns, or during stealth missions where speaking could be dangerous. It is also taught to those who have the inability to speak for one reason or another. Ranov’gaan, translating to Secret Hand, is the coded hand signs that are known only to ones Clan. They vary greatly depending on origin. Surprisingly enough it seems to be a cultural faux pas to bring attention to those using Clan based hand signs in a room with Non-Clan members. I have seen Mandalorians avert their eyes, as if they did not wish to intrude on a personal conversation.

The concept of Tribe is a little harder to describe for those unfamiliar with Mandalorians. The Tribe, as I have come to understand it, encompasses all Mandalorians regardless of origin. It can be broken down thus; Family, Clan, Alliances, Governing body, and all Mandalorians. There are, of course, exceptions[10] however in terms of importance Family and Clan will always be considered first and foremost. An individual is raised from birth, or from the moment of their Transformation, to understand that the Family and the Clan are more important than an individual’s selfish wants. This loyalty and selflessness builds cohesion in the Clan, making their bonds difficult to break.

The Mand’alor. They are the Sole Ruler of the Mandalorians and are looked upon with a mix of respect, awe, gratitude, and fear. The position is not hereditary in nature, unlike traditional Monarchies, however it can be inherited from one generation to the next as long as the Heir proves worthy of the title. If the Mand’alor dies, of natural or unnatural causes, and an Heir has not been named a Pilgrimage may be undertaken by any able bodied Mandalorian. At each shrine the Candidate will undergo a Trial to prove themselves worthy. It is a dangerous journey that is physically, mentally, and emotionally taxing. The current Mand’alor stated that Manda themselves judges whether or not someone is worthy and devours the soul of those who are found wanting.

The Mand’alor has the right to call upon all Mandalorians in times of need. In this manner the Mand’alor is treated as above and beyond all Clan loyalties or Alliances. Even bitter enemies will work side by side if the Mand’alor calls them to action. However this right is not to be taken lightly. It is not a magical ability as much as trust in the position of Mand’alor. If it is abused or the Clans feel betrayed in some manner there is a very real chance of the people turning on their Ruler.

In this section I will speak about the importance of Family;

Unlike other cultures there is no push for an unbroken line of succession. As Mandalorian is a culture and not a species there is no true need for sexual reproduction. Adoption is considered as legitimate as a child of ones blood and there is no distinction between the two. A Mandalorian’s children are all children of ‘heart and soul.’[11] Adults can also be adopted into a Clan. As a matter of fact any Outsider[12] who wishes to become Mandalorian must be sponsored and adopted into a Clan.

In Mando’a there is very little in the way of gendered language. As such the word for ones Spouse, Riduur, can roughly be translated to Partner but more accurately as Mate. Marriages are referred to as Riduurok, or Mating Ceremonies, and can include as many couples as there are adult members of the Clan. It is treated as a small festival or sorts and the families, or even Clans, will gift the new couples with practical items for their new life together. There have also been instances where multiples were married, I myself witnessed several groups of three and one group of four. I assume the practice is considered acceptable, if not common.

When it comes to those who are born Mandalorian I have come to realize that twins are the most common occurrence, with singular children and triplets being less common and quadruplets being the rare exception.

When it comes to children, which is anyone below the age of 14 or species equivalent, all Mandalorians have a soft spot. Whether Mandalorian or not a Mando’ad would not willingly or purposefully hurt a child unless it was the only option to save their life. They regard children as being wholly innocent of the crimes of their parents however if a child has committed a crime they will be detained and, in the most extreme of circumstances, taken from their Clan to be raised by another.

Each Clan is headed by a Patriarch or Matriarch that has earned the trust and respect of the many family groups that make up the clan. While a Clan Head will often let the families sort out their own troubles they are the one who has the final say in any decisions that will affect the Clan as a whole. If a Clan feels that their Head has somehow betrayed their expectations[13] the heads of each family may come together and choose a new Clan Head. They will then appeal to the Mand’alor to have their chosen Head represent them from that point onward. In the case of a Clan Head dying unexpectedly any immediate decisions of the Clan fall to the elders, and any mistakes will be rectified once a new Clan Head has been chosen.

In Conclusion;

Mandalorians are fierce, loyal, and steadfast warriors who value family and unity. They despise Mana worms and anyone who Hosts for cultural and religious reasons I have yet to discover. They are well trained and highly adaptable as well as being altogether more intelligent than the rumours make them out to be. They will defend their families and homes to the very last and would rather die than betray their beliefs.

1\. Mando’ade, in the Mandalorian language, translates to Children of Manda.  
2\. Manda is the chief deity amongst Mandalorians. A celestial dragon of unimaginable power and venerable age, if not ageless.  
3\. Manda’s Elixir, also known as Dragon’s Elixir. It is a mixture of herbs I was unfortunately unable to identify. Without the final ingredient, dragon’s blood or the blood of one with dragon lineage, it is rendered inert.  
4\. Stewjonians as a species all have vibrant red hair. It allows them to blend in naturally with the foliage of their homeland.  
5\. Mand’alor, directly translated it means Sole Ruler. In Basic we would equate it to the words King or Emperor. However this indirect translation is not quite correct as there have been a few notable female Mand’alor in the history of their people.  
6\. I am uncertain what went into making the amulet but I believe it to be made of the same material used to incapacitate mages.  
7\. Resol’nare, the Six Actions.  
8\. Clan is not to be confused with a Family Unit. A Clan is made up of many families that either share an ancestor or who have allied themselves to one another through adoption or marriage.  
9\. Although it is Legal for them to marry as young as 14 I have heard it is a very rare occurrence. The most common age for marriage is between the ages of 16-20.  
10\. Mandalorians will put aside their differences in the case of Children. Anyone below the age of 14 is considered a child and therefore an innocent. Even the children of Outsiders can bring out a protective and kind response from the most hardened of Mandalorian warriors.  
11\. The Adoption Ceremony is called the Gai bal Manda, literally translating to Name and Soul.  
12\. In Basic Mandalorians politely refer to Non-Mandalorians as Trader but the word used in Mando’a is Aruetii, which translates to Outsider, Foreigner, and even Traitor.  
13\. I use the word ‘betray’ lightly here but betrayal in Mandalore is the most grave crime one can commit. The punishments range from complete ostracization and banishment to death.


	4. Mandalorian Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolffe and the pack take Peony home to meet the clan for the first time.

By the very grace of Manda the beautiful, fearless, selfless, warrior woman survived the scouring flames and was very much alive.

It was not an easy transformation, they were certain they had almost lost her a couple times there, but she’d pulled through. The moment the Priest said she was out of danger and moved her to her own bed in the medical wing the four of them quickly took up guard positions near her while she slept. It might have looked silly from an outsider’s point of view but the woman was now their responsibility and they took it very seriously. Mando’ade could be very territorial over their newest clan members and the Gaarla clan in particular was well known for its wild tendencies.

It took days for the former jetii to wake and when she finally did her first action was to jerk upright and gasp loudly in alarm. Wolffe knew from the stories that jetii always had a hard time waking after the change. Something about the spirit leeches being connected to each other and when they were purged from the body all of their connections died with them, leaving the jetii disoriented. On the one hand it made the other jetii think the new Mando’ad was dead, on the other it also made the jetii think all their comrades were dead. It caused them to panic at suddenly feeling ‘alone.’

Support at this time was critical. If they didn’t have someone to remind them they weren’t alone there was a small chance the former jetii would try to end their own life. It was less common in the kids and squires than it was in the knight masters, thankfully. They would hate to put a kid through any of that.

Signing at Laamic to fetch water he sat down on the edge of Peony’s bed and reached out to place a hand solidly on her uninjured shoulder, letting her know he was there. The woman looked up at him and he froze. Her dark hazel eyes had turned a bright leafy green, like sunlight through spring leaves. Tears silently rolled down her cheeks and for a moment she looked at him uncertainly, as if she didn’t know who he was. Confused she tentatively reached out to touch his face, fingers feather light as they trailed close to the scar over his eye.

“…Wolffe?” He voice was thick with disuse and she swallowed hard. Smiling at her reassuringly he looked up when he noticed movement nearby. Laamic sidled up to the bed from Peony’s other side and carefully helped her take a drink of water. The tears had slowed but were still rolling down her cheeks and his brother gently brushed them away.

 _“A-are you okay? Does anything hurt?”_ He could hear the near panic in his brother’s voice and understood the worry. There was always the chance that the transformation changed her in some way, even the Priest had been surprised she’d lived through the ordeal.

 _“I… I can’t feel your auras anymore. It’s… it’s like you aren’t even there. Are you real?”_ Her voice was a near whisper, laced with fear and worry. Wolffe felt his chest tighten and his hold on her shoulder shifted as he leaned closer, letting her know he was there and very real. After a moment to collect her thoughts, and Laamic giving her another sip of water, she finally looked back at Wolffe. _“What… happened?”_

 _“The Nynirgal’aray wounded you and some of the venom seeped into your blood. You were dying.”_ There was a lack of apprehension in her eyes for a long moment before her eyes lit with recognition.

 _“The children!?”_ She asked, eyes filled with concern. Not for herself, of course, or the fact that she nearly died. Peony was solely focused on the safety of the children. Placing a hand over hers he gave her a bright smile.

 _“The children were all fine. Scared and missing their families, a few small bumps and scrapes, but they’re being well taken care of. It was you we were worried about.”_ He winced at the heat in his own voice, especially when the woman leaned away from him in surprise.

Carefully he repositioned himself so he was sitting flush against her side and let his arm drop to slide around her waist. Tugging her gently he relaxed when she leaned into him and practically melted into his side. He could tell she was still weak from the transformation, they would have to be careful with her for the first couple of months while she regained her strength and learned to adapt to her new culture.

Seeing the effect his brother was having on their verd’ika Laamic set the water down and climbed up onto the bed to snuggle against her other side. His brother looped his arm around her waist beneath her wings, above Wolffe’s arm, and Peony relaxed further. Her head remained leaning against his shoulder and he couldn’t help let out a pleased rumble.

Coming into the room Sho’sen paused before a wide grin split his face and he was hurrying over to see them. _“It’s good to see you awake. Do you mind if I take a look at your shoulder?”_ Looking up at Sho’sen there was a faint look of confusion and lack of recognition in her eyes that concerned him. Did she somehow forget about his brothers?

 _“I don’t mind.”_ She said slowly, wings shifting against her back, almost as if she were nervous. Sho’sen removed the dressing and presumably poked at the wound to ensure it wasn’t infected. Wolffe could feel Peony flinch but she kept herself carefully still.

When Sho’sen was finished he stepped away and gave them a reassuring smile. _“Everything looks fine. You’ll have a scar but it won’t effect your mobility.”_

 _“Thank you….”_ He shared a look of confusion with his brothers, who looked just as concerned as he did.

 _“Peony, what’s wrong?”_ Turning to look into his eyes the woman hesitated before looking down at her lap, shoulders hunching slightly as if defeated.

 _“I… can’t tell who is who anymore. Your auras are gone.”_ Looking back up at him she traced the line of his scar with her finger, careful not to agitate the still healing flesh. _“Except for you, Wolffe.”_ Pushing down the warmth that filled him at the thought he took her hand in his and squeezed it.

 _“You’re observant and kind, you’ll be able to tell us apart again soon. Right now you’re just too exhausted and unwell. Rest for now, we’re not going anywhere.”_ It was as if his words had lifted a weight from her body. He wings fluttered slightly and she smiled at him sweetly in gratitude.

* * *

After two more weeks of rest for the lot of them they were finally able to begin the journey home. Just as he’d predicted Peony was able to tell them apart quite readily. It wasn’t that surprising. She’d already spent enough time around them to get a better handle on their personalities. They might look alike and act as one on a hunt but they all had very distinct personalities. Wolffe was the clear leader, being both the oldest and the alpha. Ca’galaar was easily his second, falling in behind him and being the most reasonable, logical, of them. Sho’sen was the group worrywart and had some training as a medic. Mostly field dressings and the like but they made due. While laamic was the baby of the family and it showed. He was also highly curious and always asking questions.

As they journeyed home, it would take about eight days travel, they had to constantly make sure Peony wasn’t doing too much. She kept insisting that she was fine but she kept forgetting that she no longer had the spirit leeches to steal energy from the world around her to heal herself and ease her exhaustion. As much as Wolffe hated to do it he restricted her to the camp and made sure at least one of them was with her at all times. He wasn’t afraid she’d try to run away, she was too weak, but he was worried she’d wear herself out and end up injured further.

“Have you thought of what we’re going to tell the Patriarch?” Wolffe very carefully didn’t look at Ca’galaar as he finished dressing the rabbit they would be having for dinner. Wiping his knife clean he slid it back into his belt and turned to look the man in the eyes.

“It’s not the Patriarch I’m worried about.” Both of them shared a wry smile at the joke.

“What will we do if he says we have to give her to another clan?” Wolffe growled low in his throat, half threat and half possessiveness.

“If we have to threaten to make our own clan to keep her I will.” His brother stood still, eyes bright in the low light and not daring to move. Then he let out an amused snort and his eyes turned mischievous.

“Let’s get back to your flower. Sho’sen gave her a bunch of herbs to look over and organize but I bet you the bow on my back that she’s going to overdo it and start making medicine again.” Wolffe felt his face redden a little and swiped at his brother playfully. The bastard just laughed and started cleaning up the mess he’d made. With a huff Wolffe left to go wash his hands in the river so he could have a moment to think.

As he was washing he thought about his words and those of his brother. Becoming their own clan was easier said than done. They would start with nothing but themselves and their abilities if they broke away from Clan Gaarla. But Wolffe couldn’t see himself joining another clan either. He respected their Patriarch and so obeyed him, but he couldn’t see himself following someone else. The very blood in his veins wouldn’t let him. He was the Alpha, he would be in charge. On the other hand his brother’s reaction and comment made him pause. Thinking of Peony as his made something inside him feel pleased, maybe even a little smug. But even as he felt that sense of possessiveness rear up he tried to shove it back down. Peony was her own person, not a belonging. This was just his over protectiveness rearing its ugly head again.

With a sigh he finished up and returned to camp. Already he could smell the rabbit beginning to cook over the fire and hear the soft sounds of laughter of his family.

* * *

Their return home was just as eventful as he expected it to be. The moment they were spotted they were swarmed by clan members asking where they’d been and what the hell had happened to his face. He tried to placate them as best he could but he really only wanted to tell the story once and it required the patriarch to be in attendance. When Ca’galaar helped Peony out of the back of the cart everyone stopped to stare before the questions tripled in both quantity and volume.

“Lay off!” Barked a commanding voice over the crowd. Wolffe’s ears twitched and he relaxed slightly, happy for the save. The woman that approached, stalking through the parted crowd, was only a couple inches shorter than him and built like a predator. Her wild hair, yellow eyes, and sharp canines made her look dangerous. She was what the Outsiders called a Beastfolk, someone with the blood of beasts in their veins.

“We’re home buir.” The woman smiled at him and pulled him into a rough hug, taking in his scent to ensure he was in good health.

“My pups are home at last. Took you long enough.” Wolffe rolled his eyes. There was a reason he and his brothers were called the Wolf Pack. “What happened to your face Volfe?”

“Ran into some trouble.” The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly but she nodded in understanding.

“Who is the verd’ika? I didn’t hear anything about us getting a new member.” Wolffe saw Sho’sen flinch out of the corner of his eye and sighed inwardly.

“I claimed her for our clan.” The woman stopped and slowly turned to look at him, grinning.

“You claimed someone?” There was excitement in her eyes and voice that made him feel wary. The sound of a throat clearing caught both of their attention. Sho’sen and Laamic stood there looking between them.

“We claimed her, buir. Together, as a pack. Wolffe’s just trying to be noble but it doesn’t suit him.” Their mother stay there for another moment before she burst into mad cackles.

“This is great! I can’t wait to see what your buir has to say about this. Come on, he’s heard about your return by now. Bring the pretty one.” And she was gone, loping off toward the largest building. His brothers looked over at him and he shrugged. Sometimes it really was confusing dealing with their mother. But at least she didn’t seem angry, just amused.

 _“Has my sudden appearance made things difficult for you?”_ Turning to look over at Peony he could see her glancing around at the Gaarla Clan with some apprehension in her eyes but a kind smile on her face.

 _“Don’t worry about it, that was just our mother.”_ Peony’s eyebrows rose in surprised curiosity but she said nothing. Wolffe wondered how she felt about finding out her companions were a quarter wolf. If she was bothered by it she sure didn’t show it.

 _“Come on, we have a meeting to go to.”_ Leading them to the largest building in the fort town he strode into the meeting hall, followed by his pack and the majority of the clan who were curious enough to risk angering their leaders.

Entering the room he saw his mother at the head of the room, grinning at them expectantly. Next to her the Patriach stood with his arms crossed over his chest, dark amber-red eyes guarded. He was an imposing figure with two arming swords and multiple knives strapped to his waist, wrists, and thighs. Wolffe knew from experience that those knives were made for throwing and the man's aim was deadly accurate.

“Patriarch Fordo.” He greeted respectfully, bowing his head.

“I can see you have a lot to report.” The man said dryly. Squaring his shoulders Wolffe carefully schooled his expression and began to speak.

He started with their hunt and how Sho’sen found the Outsider camping out within their borders. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was a jetii and could see some of the nervous or angry looks his clan was giving Peony. Thankfully she seemed to understand this was a formal affair and remained quietly stoic in the face of the scrutiny. He explained her mission as she had described it and how they had agreed to help her save the children. “Either she was telling the truth and the kids needed our help or she was lying and we could bring her to justice later.” Fordo nodded in understanding and Wolffe continued.

When he got to the part where she revealed she was a fairy and was able to conjure lightning there were a few appreciative murmurs from the crowd. Fae were uncommon though not unusual. But Storm Fae were rarely seen. They tended to keep close to the oceans and since Mandalore was landlocked they didn’t often deal with seafaring or ocean based people.

“She saved my life. Without her I would have been struck down by the Nynirgal’aray. It’s also what nearly killed her.” As he continued to spin the story those around the Pack were listening intently. “When she collapsed we knew that whatever jetii magic she had could not handle her wound. We brought her to a Priest and he told us that the spirit leeches inside her were reacting badly to the venom and were killing her.” There was a collective sound of discontent and disgust, murmured curses, and even some words of sympathy. “The Priest told us that she was dying and I made the choice. I claimed her for Clan Gaarla.” All noise stopped and all eyes turned toward the Patriarch.

Fordo stared him down and he felt like a boy again, right after pulling some stupid stunt that ended with a harsh scolding and more chores. Then those eyes looked past him to the former jetii and the hair on the back of his neck rose slightly. He wanted to move between her and the threat in front of him. Only a small growl from his mother, barely audible even to Mando’ade, stopped him.

 _“Peony, is it?”_ The woman startled slightly at being addressed but nodded politely as she stepped forward to stand next to Wolffe. _“Do you understand what has been done to you?”_ She was quiet for a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.

 _“I understand.”_ A thoughtful pause. _“You seem concerned that this was done against my will.”_ There was a faint look of surprise on Fordo’s face but he didn’t reply, letting Peony continue. _“I was incoherent and dying. I do not fault Wolffe or his brothers for trying to save my life, nor do I regret their decision. It will… take time for me to adjust but I am glad to be alive.”_ Tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying since the woman first woke finally broke and he felt himself relaxing, a small smile of relief crossing his face.

 _“That was what I was worried about, yes. You may have heard terrible things about us,_ verd’ika, _but we do not force someone to become one of us.”_ Whether he was talking purely Clan Gaarla or not Wolffe wasn’t sure. He had heard that nearly all clans looked down on forcing someone to become Mando’ad but there were always exceptions. _“Clan Gaarla would be honored to have you.”_ Looking around the room the man spoke loudly. “Does anyone here object to the adoption of the verd’ika Peony?” There was some shuffling and murmuring but no one made to object. “Then as Patriarch of Clan Gaarla I claim this verd’ika for the Clan. She will be housed with those who laid claim to her and will be their responsibility.” He eyed the four of them sternly. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Alor!” They spoke in unison. Fordo nodded and closed the meeting.

After everyone was gone save the seven of them the man finally approached the group. Once he was close enough Wolffe opened his mouth to thank him and got a smack to the back of his head for his effort. Yelping he rubbed at the sore spot as his brothers snickered at him. “Introduce me.” Was the command. Wolffe huffed.

 _“Peony this is the Patriarch of Clan Gaarla, Fordo Gaarla.”_ She smiled politely and gave an elegant bow worthy of a lord. _“He’s also our father.”_ Straightening her eyebrows rose and she looked between the man and his sons for a moment.

 _“I can see the resemblance.”_ Their buir chuckled.

 _“You have been formally adopted into the clan. You have a home here now and a family. We of Clan Gaarla take care of our own.”_ Peony’s smile turned gentle and her eyes softened.

 _“Thank you.”_ Their buir smiled in return.

 _“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve appointed these four to be your guardians until you understand our language and culture enough to not get into trouble.”_ The woman’s eyes glittered slightly with mischief.

 _“They aren’t so bad, a little rough around the edges perhaps, but they have been well behaved so far.”_ Wolffe heard Ca’galaar splutter and Sho’sen chuckle. Their mother just cackled, eyes darting between him and Peony in a way that made him feel uneasy.

 _“Welcome to the clan,_ tersk vekni me’ta aug Volfe.” Wolffe’s brothers stalled as they slowly translated their mother’s native tongue into Mando’a. The moment it finally clicked Wolffe groaned and covered his face in his hands. A moment later his father was shaking with silent laughter as his brothers grinned at him unrepetantly.

Peony just looked on in mild confusion and interest but smiled at him when he caught her eye. Wolffe smiled back to reassure her he was fine. He could handle a little teasing from his family. He just hoped it took Peony a while to learn Mando’a and that she never, ever, tried to learn Vulfen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone surprised that Fordo is Alphard's older twin brother? Or that the Wolf Pack is _literally_ part wolf?
> 
> Vulfen Translations;
> 
> Vulfen- The language of the Lupine Beastfolk.  
> Volfe- Wolffe’s Beastfolk name.  
> Tersk vekni me’ta aug Volfe- The future mate of Wolffe. (Mama wolf be joking about them getting married. She wants grandkids already.)


	5. Mother of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to [Elementalmaster0506](/users/Elementalmaster0506), who asked me a lot of fun questions about Lamia and the Kaminoans. I couldn't answer them all, sometimes the Muse is elusive, but I hope you'll find this Cody POV interesting.
> 
> Caution: The feels are real.

What he remembers most about his birth mother is her soft blonde hair and gentle voice. She was a delicate thing, tall and wispy. The older he became the more he began to worry he would hurt her accidentally. So even at a young age he started treating her like something precious and delicate. When he noticed that loud or boisterous actions would unnerve her Cody tried his best to remain quiet, calm, and still. A bulwark between her and whatever had startled her. Especially when she was already dealing with a grumpy Rex or crying Boba.

Kaminoans were known for their intellect, which Cody inherited from her side of the family. All while looking the very picture of a Mando’ad. It was obvious in the way his eyes followed the interactions of the adults even at a young age and how he understood concepts far above his age group. Everyone praised his observational skills, even his father, and it made him happy to see how proud his father was of him.

Then he began his physical training at six years of age and things started to shift. At times his mother would watch the way he approached her and he could see a sliver of fear in her calculating eyes. She began to close herself off from him and more than once he caught her shrinking away from his touch. He always pretended not to notice, smiling gently and speaking calmly with no hint of the confused hurt he was feeling within.

It took him another year to realize she did it with his father too. Not a lot, his parents clearly had affection for one another, but it did happen. Even Myles and Alphard seemed to notice something wasn’t quite right with her interactions but they always excused it as a Kaminoan thing, assuming they weren’t as physically affectionate as Mando’ade because she was so delicate. But Cody knew better. His mother had always been very affectionate with him and his brothers. But one day she just… stopped.

By the time he was eight years old he thought he understood why his mother didn’t hug him or his father as much as she did Rex and Boba. It was because the boys weren’t warriors yet. Neither of them were old enough to start learning hand to hand or to even hold a knife, let alone a sword. But Cody… he was his father’s son and the crown prince of Mandalore. No matter his scholarly pursuits and his love of reading he had the fire of Manda in his veins and would one day become a warrior king, like his father.

Then it happened.

Every year, about a tenday before his parents wedding anniversary, the Kaminoans would send another delegation to celebrate the alliance between the two kingdoms. Except this year something had felt… wrong. Normally his mother was happy to see her people, to speak the language of her people and enjoy their company. Yet after speaking with the head of the delegation, Lord Ko Sai, she seemed almost tense. He had begun to speak in Kamino’a but his mother cut him off with a small movement and a glance in Cody’s direction. He felt his heart sink slightly when he realized that she was asking the Lord not to speak because she knew her eldest son understood their words. As if him knowing the language was somehow offensive or dangerous.

Of course it wasn’t until he was older that he realized it was due to what they were planning. The night after his parents anniversary, when everyone was a little lax from the celebration, the Kaminoans struck. They had used magic to conceal their numbers and were taking out the guards as quickly as they could. Cody, worried about his siblings, ran to check on Rex and Boba. What he found made his blood run cold then hot in his veins.

Lord Ko Sai was hurrying his mother along while she held Boba to her chest with one arm and held Rex’s hand with the other. “I can’t do this anymore! All this violence, my children will not become mindless beasts!” Cody had never experience betrayal in his life but he knew the taste of it that day. The feeling of gray dread sweeping through him as his heart broke in two. It was only the cries of his brothers that brought him back from the spiral in his mind and for that he would forever be thankful.

He wasn’t large enough to fight the Kaminoans on their own terms but he wasn’t defenseless either. To this day he wasn’t sure how he pulled it off. It was a foolish plan and yet he couldn’t think of anything else to do to stop them from stealing his brothers. With some reluctance he used his own knife to slice open the skin of his forehead, making it look like a glancing blow. He bit back the pain as the blood began to flow and hurried into his mother’s room, where she was still trying to wrangle his brothers.

“Mother! You’re unhurt!” The two Kaminoans froze, looking at him warily. Ignoring Ko Sai entirely he ran up to his mother, letting the nerves catch up to him so his hands shook and feeling tears prickle at the edges of his eyes. “They said fighting was glorious. But it isn’t! I’m s-scared.” The woman looked down at him and her expression became soft.

“Cody, you poor thing. I know. They are like beasts, lost in the blood and violence. But we don’t have to be. Neither you or your brothers have to be warriors. Come, we will escape to Kamino. You can study to your hearts content. No more swords, no more fighting.” Ko Sai watched them, eyes angry and expression neutral. Cody nodded and reached for Boba.

“Let me hold them, mother, I will help you.” She hesitated for a moment but handed Boba to him carefully. Relieved he held his youngest brother to him and took Rex’s hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” His brothers were both crying and clung to him as Lamia grabbed the last of her things. A small group of Kaminoan guards appeared and they were escorted out into the corridor.

Cody kept up with them, staying next to his mother as she and Ko Sai spoke to one another, more focused on escape than on the three ‘half-blood’ children. Ko Sai’s words. When they made it to an area where the fighting was thickest Cody nearly jumped when he heard his father’s booming yell across the hall. The man fought as if he was possessed by Manda themselves, snarling with fury and commanding the soldiers as if he was born to it.

When his father’s forces met with the Kaminoans Cody saw an opening and took it. With his brothers safely in his grasp he ran away from the Kaminoans and toward where he could see Alphard fighting with a group of loyal guards. “Cody! What are you doing?” His mother cried, clearly scared and forlorn. He closed his eyes and kept running, drowning out her almost desperate pleas to go back.

A broad hand grabbed onto his shoulder and his eyes sprang open, body shifting his weight defensively in order to protect his brothers. “Steady lad, I’ve got you.” His young body sagged in tired relief as the guards took his brothers and lead them toward safety. He turned to look back and saw his mother, kneeling on the ground and shaking as she watched her children being taken away. He didn’t look back again.

Once the Kaminoans had been routed and rounded up the conspirators were questioned and put on trial. Cody was there for the proceedings but didn’t speak as the different high ranking delegates were executed.

The story that unraveled unwillingly from their lips enraged his father. Because of their physical weakness they had begun experimenting on Mando’ade, planning on using them as some sort of twisted surrogates for their own children. Their confidence in their intellect and magic made them arrogant. They considered the Mando’ade beneath them, a means to an end and nothing more. It was sickening.

Then his mother was brought forward.

She spoke of not knowing what was going on, of wanting to protect her children and of trusting Ko Sai because he was a friend of her father. A burning heat spread through him as she told lie after lie, trying to convince his father that she was innocent. But he could see it in her eyes and the way she moved. Years of watching her carefully so he wouldn’t hurt or scare her, years of standing between her and everyone who might make her upset, had honed his ability to read her.

“She’s lying.” It was the first time he’d spoken all day and it startled everyone to silence. His father looked to him, expression guarded. The man motioned him to continue, so he did. He told them all he had witnessed growing up and all he had seen the day of the attempted takeover. How she had planned on taking his brothers but leaving him behind. “Because I am too far gone. Isn’t that right, mother?” The woman began to sob quietly but there was nothing she could say to refute his words.

Cody witnessed the execution of his mother with a blank expression. The adults around him watched the eight year old boy carefully, looking worried. But he ignored them. It was his testimony against his mother's treachery that had lead to this situation and he felt responsible. The woman pleaded and cried, cursing them even as she tried to convince them to leave her alive to take care of her children.

Then she turned to him and he felt a cold numbness seep into his very bones. "Why Cody? I am your mother!" He said nothing as his father raised his blade and with one quick strike ended her life. Alphard took him back to his room in silence, looking down at him with concern. But he was too numb to everything to reassure the man he was fine.

His mother's love had been conditional. She didn't want warriors for sons. The moment her eldest had begun learning to be a true Mando'ad she had turned her back on him. But Cody’s love was not conditional. He would mourn his mother even if she had betrayed him. Because unlike Lamia, Cody knew how to love with his entire heart. He was his father’s son after all.


	6. Quiet Knight and Stubborn Bowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some awkward teen boys crushing on each other. XD

[Sev]

Vivid blue eyes watched him, unblinking, as he drew back the string of his bow and loosed another arrow. Ignoring the almost physical weight of that stare was becoming harder and harder by the minute but he grit his teeth and continued to pay it no mind as the quiet teen leaned over the fence somewhere behind him. It was close to sunrise, the sky barely light enough to see by. Sev had always preferred this time to practice his archery. Not many were early risers, certainly not his brothers, so he often found this training field empty. Except, apparently, the last nine days or so.

Every morning he came to practice Kom’rk Skirata of the Skirata Clan would appear mere minutes after he’d set up his targets and would stand there silently, watching him. It set his teeth on edge. Each time he’d tried to hint that he wanted to be alone the teen would just give him a small smile and lounge against the fence even further. Sev gave up trying to make him leave after the fifth day and had decided to just outright ignore him. The older teen would get bored with whatever this was eventually and leave him alone.

“Why do you come to the range before the sun rises every day?” Not expecting the sudden question he almost missed his next shot and scowled. Looking back at the other teen he let his displeasure be known by letting out a small growl of annoyance.

“Ideally to get away from nosy bastards who don’t know when to mind their own business.” The other teen continued to watch him quietly, not deigning to answer. Sev turned around and pulled another arrow from the quiver hanging from his waist. Shifting his feet he sighted the target and let out a slow breath. Swinging the bow upward he drew and released. A spike of satisfaction went through him as the arrow hit the target hard enough to knock it over. Glancing behind him he frowned when he didn’t see Kom’rk leaning over the fence.

“What if…” He nearly jumped out of his damned skin when the older teen spoke a few feet to his right, hiding in his sole blind spot. How the fuck!? He turned and gave the teen a glare. Kom’rk stepped closer and Sev looked up at him mulishly. If the bastard didn’t stop messing with him soon he was going to punch him in the face. “What if I want to make you my business?”

For a moment Sev was completely caught off guard. Surely he hadn’t heard right. “Wh-what?”

“You said to mind my own business. What if I want to make you my business?” Sev’s yellow eyes widened in surprise as a small playful smirk crossed Kom’rk’s handsome face. A faint blush colored his cheeks and he wanted to smack himself. Kom’rk wasn’t handsome! He was a nuisance! Clan Skirata might be their ally but they were all a bunch of purist elitists who thought they were better than everyone else because they were born pure Mando’ad. There was no friendship between them.

“The only reason I haven’t stabbed you and strangled you with your own intestines is because it would ruin the alliance between our clans.” Kom’rk’s eyes only brightened at the threat, his lips quirking upward again in a small smile.

“I see…” Taking a step back he took one last look at Sev and nodded almost absentmindedly. “I hope your day goes well, Severn of Clan Vau.” Then he turned on his heel and strode away- as if nothing had happened.

Sev stood there watching the older teen as he walked away, unable to speak for a long moment.

“…what the fuck?”

Early the next morning, before sunrise, he set up his targets as usual and began to shoot. At first he was doing as well as he normally did, hitting the target as intended. But after a few minutes his shots started to veer a little and he realized he was distracted. Lowering his bow after another shot went wide he wracked his brain for what the hell was going on when he realized that he was entirely alone on the field. Scanning the area he saw no sign of Kom’rk.

He should have felt relieved… but he didn’t. It was lonely to be out on the range before anyone else. Normally his idiot twin accompanied him everywhere, cracking jokes and filling the silence with his boisterous presence. Standing in the near dark by himself now somehow felt… wrong. Especially after he’d had company the past nine days.

Unable to really focus without another person nearby he put everything away and headed back to bed, ignoring Bosh’s confused look as he passed his elder brother in the hall.

Three days passed and there was no sign of Kom’rk. Sev didn’t want to admit to himself how much he missed the bastard’s quiet company. On the fourth day Sev stopped going to the range and stayed home, much to the confusion of his family.

By the fifth day Scorch dragged him out to the combat rings to get out all of his ‘brooding’ energy. When they arrived it had already been taken over by a group of the younger knights. Including Knight Captain Mereel and Senior Knights Prudii and Kom’rk. The bastard had the nerve to smile at him across the ring. Sev wanted to turn around and walk away but Scorch had a good hold on his arm and convinced him to stay.

They watched the tail end of a fight between Prudii and one of the older teens. He grinned when the boastful idiot got his ass handed to him by the Clan Skirata teen. There were bets going around and Scorch’s attention was immediately sidetracked, much to his annoyance.

“Sev, why don’t you show some of these weaklings who’s boss?” He glared at his brother as he pushed Sev toward the ring, grinning like an idiot. “Come on, it’ll help you blow off some steam!” Grumbling he put his name down for a match with Captain Mereel, who took one look at him and grinned evilly. Going back to his brother he started to take off parts of his armor and set them aside. The rules of the day were for unarmored hand to hand combat. He handed the pieces over to his brother for safe keeping and waited his turn. Arms crossed over his chest he watched the participants beat the crap out of each other until one of them gave in or the Captain called a halt.

Glancing across the circle he caught sight of Kom’rk leaning in to speak to his brother. Mereel looked at Kom’rk as if he’d grown a second head before shrugging and replying with clan signs. It must have been a positive response because Kom’rk smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. Then their eyes met again and Sev quickly looked away.

Two more matches concluded before his name was called. He stepped into the ring and ignored some of the jeers that came his way. Just because he was a bowman, not a knight, didn’t mean he couldn’t fight. It was time to show these bastards.

“Your challenger will be… Kom’rk of Clan Skirata.” He blinked and glanced over at the Captain, who was grinning like a cat that got the cream. The quiet knight stepped into the ring, blue eyes assessing him carefully. Sev clenched his teeth and waited for the signal.

“Begin!”

The match was a setup. The whole thing had been rigged from the start. No matter what he tried Kom’rk always had a counter to his moves, deflecting or catching his strikes with ease. Yet he never tried to end the match. It was humiliating! Was this their plan the whole time?

In the end he found himself pinned to the ground with his arms behind his back and a knee keeping him firmly in place. The Captain called the match and Kom’rk helped him to his feet, holding his arm and smiling at him. Sev pulled his arm away, angry he had been defeated so easily, and stormed off to grab his armor from his twin.

After hastily putting his armor back on he slipped away when Scorch wasn’t paying attention and made his way back toward the archery range. He shouldn’t have let his twin drag him along like that. Now he was just more angry and tense.

Rounding one of the towers someone suddenly grabbed him by the arm from behind and he reflexively whipped around to punch them in the face. He didn’t like being startled, no Mando’ad did. Before he could even blink he found himself pinned again, this time with an arm above his head and a knee between his legs. Kom’rk looked down at him, pupils dilated and eyes wide in surprise.

“What the fuck do you want!?” Slowly the other teen pulled his knee out from between Sev’s legs and let his arm go, though he didn’t back away as he should have.

“To apologize.” Sev just looked up at the blue eyed bastard in confusion.

“For what?” He demanded.

“For being gone so long and then missing you this morning. I had an extended mission and was running late after reporting in last night. When I got to the range you weren’t there.” Sev felt a lump forming in his throat, even as he glared up at the other teen in bewilderment.

“Why in the bloody hell do you even want to be around me?” He was an abrasive asshole. Only his brothers could ever really stand him and even then only Scorch laughed off the cruel things he said when he was annoyed. His own mother was frightened of him and his father thought he was a lunatic who could lose control at any second and disgrace the clan. Before the older teen could open his mouth to reply Sev continued; “be honest! I hate vagueries.” Kom’rk was quiet for a moment before he seemed to mentally shrug and leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart.

“You like to hide behind cruel words, trying to push everyone else away, but you don’t actually want to be alone. Which is why I chose to stay.” Sev glared daggers at the older teen, about two seconds from pushing him away. “You’re also passionate, dedicated, precise, elegant and graceful.” His brain stalled in confusion. Graceful? Him? What!?

“I… huh?” Blue eyes bore into bright yellow and Sev couldn’t look away if he tried, too mesmerized by the swirling emotions hiding in their depths.

“Did you know that when you pull a bowstring you lean back into it, using your entire body to draw? Your back arches in this lovely curve. When the sun rises the light just accentuates how graceful you are.” Sev was pretty sure his entire face had turned the color of a ripe tomato as the older teen’s words made heat bloom in his chest.

“Y-you were watching me that closely?” Something in Kom’rk’s eyes softened slightly and he nodded quietly. Sev didn’t know what to say. No one had ever paid that much attention to him before. They all took in his rough appearance and harsh words then quickly decided he wasn’t worth it. But Kom’rk had taken the time to watch him, to ignore his harsh insults and just let him be himself.

“Hey.” A calm yet firm voice said as a gloved hand landed on the older teen’s shoulder and squeezed- hard. “Back off.” Flick’s voice was steady and his body was relaxed but Sev could see in his eyes that his older brother was moments away from violence. Kom’rk turned to look at Flick, blue eyes calculating. Both Kom’rk and Flick had been in the same classes for four years while they were pages. They were both familiar with each others fighting abilities.

“I’m okay, Flick. He wasn’t bothering me.” His brother’s eyes looked between the two of them with suspicion, lips a thin line as he bit back his first response.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Severn. Have a good day.” Knocking Flick’s hand away Kom’rk turned to smile at him before he left the two of them alone.

“Did he just-?” Sev sighed.

“He did.” Flick eyed him like he was an impostor.

“You don’t let anyone call you that!” Sev crossed his arms and glared at the ground, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“That’s not true. Father calls me Severn, so does Scorch.” Flick shook his head.

“No, Father is the only one who consistently calls you by your full name. Scorch only does it when he really wants to piss you off.” He faltered slightly, looking at the place where Kom’rk had disappeared. “Sev… is he threatening you or something? You know we’ve got your back, right?” Sev couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle.

“He’s not. To be honest I’m not sure what he’s trying to pull. But it’s fine, brother, I can deal with him on my own.” Flick frowned in concern but didn’t try to argue with him.

“Fine. But the moment he becomes a problem I want you to tell one of us. Understand?” Sev sighed. Oh the joys of having over protective elder brothers.

“Yeah, Flick. I understand.”

[Kom’rk]

It had been a lucky little happenstance when he’d come back from a mission in the early hours of the morning. He’d opted for crossing the sure-to-be-vacant archery ranges as a short cut to his destination and he would be forever thankful he did so. It had been the strange sound of something whistling through the air and striking something hard that had first drawn his attention. While it was true that Mando’ade could see well in low light environments he didn’t think anyone was crazy enough to be practicing archery before the sun even rose.

Lo and behold he came across a member of Clan Vau standing in the field alone, bow raised high, and loosing another arrow. It arced through the sky and thunked into a target an impressive distance away. As the other teen pulled and notched another arrow the sun finally began to peek over the horizon. The effect was truly captivating.

Grip arrow with fingers and thumb, swing bow up into position, draw string to ear, and loose. It happened in a single moment, a fluid and graceful move that was elegant in its simplicity. The small smile of satisfaction on the teen’s face made his heart begin to race as his eyes traced the long curve of his back. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought someone was attractive, but it may have been the first time he’d thought of someone as beautiful.

The teen finished his volley of arrows and slung his bow across his back. As he jogged off toward the target to retrieve his arrows Kom’rk shook himself out of his stupor and continued on his way. If a little distractedly.

It took a lot of careful observations and gentle questioning but he eventually learned of the other teen’s reputation. Severn Vau of Clan Vau was not a knight, like his elder brothers, but a simple bowman in the army. Of course ‘simple’ and Severn did not belong in the same sentence, according to those he spoke with. Severn was known to be overly aggressive and even cruel. Only his twin Scorch was able to laugh off his disturbing comments and tease him without repercussion. No one called him by his full name after someone tried to insult him about his ‘Outsider’ origins and he sent them to the medical wing with a dislocated shoulder and broken jaw. Honestly it sounded as if he should avoid the Clan Vau teen as much as possible and yet…

He learned that Severn liked to go to the archery range in the morning before sunrise every day to practice. At first he was just curious, he wanted to see if the rumors were true. But as he continued to watch the teen from afar he began to realize that not all was as it seemed. There were times where his twin would walk away to banter with a group of their peers and he would catch the younger teen standing by himself, glaring at everyone around him as they tried to avoid catching his attention. But even as his body language screamed ‘stay away’ his eyes almost seemed to plead for someone, anyone, to interact with him. Inevitably his brother would return to his side and his eyes would gain some of their brightness once more.

It became a habit to go to the range in the morning and spend some time quietly watching the other teen as he practiced. Why he continued to practice when he was one of the most skilled bowmen Kom’rk had ever seen boggled the mind. But he seemed to like the calm and the quiet of the early morning. The satisfaction he could practically feel from the other teen as he hit his target was something he hadn’t observed of him anywhere else.

After a month of observation he finally decided to slowly get closer to the intriguing teen. He started by casually stopping by the range a short time after Severn normally arrived. The teen looked at him in surprise for a moment before his expression became guarded. Neither of them spoke as Kom’rk leaned against the fence and just stood there, appreciating the view.

The second day Severn looked at him strangely when he appeared again but said nothing about his presence. The third day he finally asked what Kom’rk wanted from him. “Nothing.” He’d replied honestly. The teen had sneered at him. “Then fuck off. You’re making me miss my shots, Skirata.” He shouldn’t have been surprised he was recognized. After all he was wearing Clan Skirata colors, just as Severn was wearing Clan Vau colors.

This pattern continued for a couple of days but eventually the other teen stopped telling him to go away. Instead he just went back to ignoring his presence. Kom’rk was trying to think of a way to initiate another conversation that would get Severn to actually talk to him when he was called away by duty.

When he’d returned he’d reported to his superiors and cleaned himself up before heading out to the range. He remained there until well past sunrise before he gave up and headed home. Prudii and Mereel, noticing his disappointment, suggested he go with them to the combat rings to release some of his frustration. It turned out to be a good idea after all.

Across the ring he saw Scorch dragging along a reluctant looking Severn and smiled at him. The other teen looked a little put out but he often had that face during their interactions, so he didn’t think much of it. Much to his surprise Severn put his name down for a fight and began stripping out of his armor. Kom’rk drank in the sight before he had a sudden thought. He sidled up next to his brother.

“Would you care to do me a favor?” Mereel was a little surprised and wary. It wasn’t often Kom’rk asked for anything. Thankfully his amusement and curiosity won out.

“What can I do for you?” Kom’rk smiled.

“I want to fight Severn of Clan Skirata. Get me into the ring with him.” Mereel looked at him strangely, as if trying to figure out why he wanted to fight someone from an allied house.

“You aren’t trying to start trouble, are you?” He smiled.

“Not that kind of trouble. Just a friendly spar, that’s all.” His brother didn’t look as if he bought it, at all, but in the end he just shrugged. Mereel switched to hand signs.

‘He’s watching us. If this is some kind of grudge match just make sure you keep it clean.’ Kom’rk smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘No grudge.’ No, his interest lay elsewhere.

Kom’rk stepped into the ring when his name was called and watched Severn’s reaction carefully. The other teen clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, prepared for a hard fight. There was anger in his eyes and hurt too. The fight wasn’t an easy one, he didn’t actually want to hurt the other teen after all. He had to pull out some of his advanced training and skills to ensure that he didn’t take any more damage than necessary as well. Severn was a bowman and what people often forgot was that meant they spent years building up the muscles in their arms. On top of that he was certain the Clan Vau Patriarch had taught the teen how to fight just as well as his elder brothers.

Pinning him to the ground to end the match both filled him with excitement and regret. Severn hadn’t taken the loss well, he could see it in his eyes. The other teen thought he was playing with him, actively trying to sabotage him somehow. Kom’rk couldn’t let him continue to think like that. He signaled his brother and chased after the younger teen, grabbing onto his arm to stop him so they could talk.

He should have expected the younger teen to attack him. He was already riled up from the earlier fight. Instinct took over as a fist flew toward his face. Striking the other teen’s arm he slipped a hand around his wrist and pinned his arm to the stone wall behind him. As an added safety measure he shoved his knee between the teen’s legs so he wouldn’t be able to kick at him. Once he came back to himself he stared down at Severn’s angry face and realized how close they were. Stars, he could kiss him right now.

“What the fuck do you want!?” Carefully, trying to hide the excitement he was feeling at their closeness, he pulled his knee from between the other teen’s legs and let go of his arm. But he just couldn’t muster the will to step away from him.

“To apologize.” A look of sheer confusion with a sliver of hope came over Severn before it was shoved beneath anger and Kom’rk wanted to sigh.

“For what?”

“For being gone so long and then missing you this morning. I had an extended mission and was running late after reporting in last night. When I got to the range you weren’t there.” He had been quite disappointed. He’d been looking forward to seeing Severn for days. Even his squad mates had given him strange looks when his mind had wandered mid-mission and he’d become distracted.

“Why in the bloody hell do you even want to be around me?” There it was. The hurt he knew that lurked beneath the facade. The idea that no one wanted him, that he was somehow unworthy. He wanted to reassure him that he didn’t think like the others. “Be honest! I hate vagueries.” Kom’rk took a moment to think about what to say and decided to be as straight forward as possible. If Severn wanted the blatant truth he would give it to him.

“You like to hide behind cruel words, trying to push everyone else away, but you don’t actually want to be alone. Which is why I chose to stay.” To stay there and keep him company so he wouldn’t feel so alone. “You’re also passionate, dedicated, precise, elegant and graceful.” All qualities Kom’rk appreciated about him.

“I… huh?” It was clear that no one had ever complimented him properly before in just how wide his eyes had gone with surprise.

“Did you know that when you pull a bowstring you lean back into it, using your entire body to draw? Your back arches in this lovely curve. When the sun rises the light just accentuates how graceful you are.” Kom’rk wondered what he’d look like without a shirt, bathed in moonlight. It was an often enough fantasy that he was determined to see it happen in reality. The red blush on his face was just so precious. He really should kiss him.

“Y-you were watching me that closely?” He heard the slight apprehension and nerves in the other teen’s voice and softened. Rather than respond he just nodded. Severn watched him, speechless, and Kom’rk was contemplating inviting him for a shared meal when a heavy hand gripped his shoulder.

“Hey.” Oh, he knew that voice. “Back off.” Turning to look at Flick he felt a flash of annoyance but quickly smothered it. He had every right to come and defend his brother, even if it was against someone who meant him no harm. Obviously Flick had misunderstood their positions as something more sinister.

“I’m okay, Flick. He wasn’t bothering me.” Kom’rk had to hide a smile. That was the first time Severn had said he wasn’t a nuisance. Progress! 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Severn. Have a good day.” Knocking Flick’s hand away he turned to his prospective cyare and smiled at him warmly. As he took his leave he heard Flick question Severn about Kom’rk using his name and smirked at the response.

Severn didn’t let anyone call him by his full name. Except his Patriarch father, who was a bastard that did whatever he liked, and his twin brother. Kom’rk would treat it as the privilege it was and wouldn’t abuse it. If Severn asked him to call him Sev he would. But he hoped that the other teen would continue to allow him to call him by his full name while they were in private.

Severn, from the Aquaeli language. It meant severe, stubborn, or persistent. Kom’rk chuckled to himself. It certainly suited the fiery teen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clan Skirata  
> Kal- 43 (Patriarch)  
> Ordo- 24 (Heir)  
> A’den and Mereel- 22  
> Prudii, Kom’rk, and Jaing- 19  
> Shak (Niner)- Adopted 18  
> Venku (Darman)- Adopted. 16  
> Atin- Adopted 16  
> Fi- Adopted 14
> 
> Clan Vau  
> Walon Vau- 40 (Patriarch)  
> Bosh (Boss)- 21 (Heir)  
> Flick (Fixer)- 19  
> Severn and Scorch- 17


	7. Promises and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seven months of secretly seeing one another Kom'rk asks Sev to be his mate. Sev agrees and bravely faces down his father's hatred for those of Clan Skirata.
> 
> If you've been reading the base story then you'll know this does not turn out well.
> 
> Warnings: M/M sex, Physical abuse/Parental abuse. Changed the rating!

[Kom’rk]

Warm hands followed the contours of toned muscles, fingers pressing firmly into trembling flesh. A small gasp left the younger teen as he arched back, yellow eyes half-lidded and shining fever bright in the near darkness. Thrusting upward he let out a low, possessive, growl. Words of endearment spilling from his lips unbidden.

“My beautiful sweetheart, my most treasured one. Doing so well- yes, like that! So wonderful, such a gift.” At any other time he would never have babbled like this, preferring to speak only when it was most prudent. But the lithe form of his lover riding him beneath the light of the moon completely broke the strict standard he held himself to. It was everything he had fantasized about and more. In all of his fantasies he might have made love to Severn but he had never deluded himself into thinking it was anything more than a dream. Being with his love like this was better than anything he could have imagined.

“K-Kom’rk! S-st-stop talki- Ah!” He thrust upward again and reveled in Severn’s pleased gasp.

“Now why would I do that, my heart, my dearest, my lovely one?” Sliding his hand down Severn’s arm he grabbed his hand and lifted it to his lips, giving him a devilish smirk as his eyes lit with mischief.

Severn groaned. Falling forward the younger teen took his lips in a searing kiss, trying to shut him up by force. Kom’rk chuckled and slid his arms around his cyare’s waist and back. Lifting him as if he weighed little he shifted their positions so that Severn was laying beneath him. Staring down into excited yellow eyes he began to move in earnest, listening to the delicious sounds coming from the younger teen.

“F-fuuuck~” Kom’rk grinned, leaning down to nibble on his love’s neck. He loved hearing the other teen come completely undone, devolving into nothing but crude language and a desperate chant of his name. Stars, but he was gorgeous.

Suddenly Severn reached up and latched onto his arms, head thrown back and whimpering, Kom’rk panted hard, trying to keep at least some control over himself. Growling when Severn made a begging sound deep in his throat he thrust harder, blue eyes burning the sight of the other teen into his mind. “Cum for me, Severn.” He growled out sharply next to his cyare’s ear, knowing what calling him by name would do.

As he came Severn tightened around him. A few quick, hard, thrusts later he was coming as well, vision going out of focus as pleasure surged through his body. Trembling with exertion he pulled out and lay himself down beside his lover.

Dragging Severn to him he held the younger teen quietly, savoring the moment. When their breathing finally evened out and they began to shiver from the cold he grabbed the second blanket and threw it over them. Neither of them had anywhere to be for at least five more hours. Plenty of time to bask in the presence of his cyare.

Although both of them were tired neither of them wanted to sleep. As the sounds of night returned around them Kom’rk couldn’t stop himself from staring at the love of his life. No matter how many times Severn scolded him, told him he would enact violence against him, he could always see through his lies to the teen’s true feelings hidden within. Severn was scared. Scared that at any moment Kom’rk would leave him.

It made him burn with determination. He needed to show just how devoted he was to the other teen. Good thing he had already been planning on it. Untangling himself from his lover he got up and made his way over to his horse. Severn made a grumpy noise but remained under the blanket, annoyed that Kom’rk was no longer there to keep him warm.

“Just a moment, cyare.” Grabbing what he needed he returned to the blanket and sat down, cross legged, in front of Severn. The other teen, seeming to sense this was something important, sat up and watched him almost warily. Setting the long piece of wood between them he grinned when Severn’s eyes ran along it and brightened in recognition.

“A bow?” He asked quietly.

“I, Kom’rk Skirata of the Skirata Clan, wish to give you this gift, earned through my own hard work, in accordance with tradition.” Severn’s eyes went wide, brows high in stunned surprise.

“I-what? No, you ca- Kom’rk!” A wide grin split his face at the very adorable reaction of his cyare.

“I can, and I have. I fully intend to court you properly.” His love made a low strangled choking noise in the back of his throat before he threw himself into Kom’rk’s arms. “Shh, cyare, don’t worry. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He held the younger teen in his arms, stroking his hair, and waited for the tears to stop. They remained that way, sitting in silence, for an hour or so before Severn finally spoke.

“You know they won’t allow it…” He let out a snort of amusement.

“I don’t care. I’ll have you.” Severn let out a small huff.

Picking up the bow the other teen examined it carefully, his fingers deftly sliding along the finished wood and testing the grip. When his fingers trailed over the clan sigil stamped into it he stopped. “If I go around carrying this they’ll all know.” The sigil was the stylized three sided blade of Clan Skirata. Only the members of a clan were allowed to carry objects with their sigil. Unless someone was courting them with the intent to bring them into a clan. Which was exactly what Kom’rk was doing.

“If you don’t want others to know I can hold onto that for now. But I want you as my own, cyare; I want you as my mate. Which means that one of us needs to marry into the other’s clan. I know my patriarch would welcome you into my clan, can you say the same of yours?” He hated bringing up Walon Vau, especially with Severn, but this was an important step in their relationship and this decision was important.

He saw anger bloom in his cyare’s eyes and wanted to sigh in exasperation. But there was something else lurking there, something he had noticed before and hated the more he glimpsed it. Severn was afraid. Not fear of rejection or disappointment, no. It ran deeper than that, more primal.

Kom’rk reached for the bow to take it back, fully intending to wait and give Severn time to think things over. His cyare’s hands tightened on the wood and he drew the courting gift closer to his body, shaking slightly. “I’m not taking back my claim, cyare, and if you say no I won’t hold it against you. Let me hold onto it for now.”

“No. I know you and I know how you were raised. Your family is traditional. If… if I give this back now…” Severn wasn’t wrong. Kom’rk and all of his brothers had been raised in the proper way, with the old traditions that kept the Mando’ade alive for centuries. If Severn refused his claim it would mean that they could never be married. They would live a life of hiding, never allowed to be together and never having a family.

“Cyare… I will wait for you. I swear it.” He held out his hand for the bow again and sighed when Severn shook his head.

“L-let me hold onto it. Think on it til the sun rises…” Kom’rk let his hand fall into his lap and nodded.

“Okay, cyare, okay.” Looking his love over he smiled gently. “At least come here and let me keep you warm.” Severn gave him a shaky smile in return and came to sit in his lap, leaning against him. Pulling the blankets around them he maneuvered them so he could lean against a tree and wrap his arms around the younger teen, holding onto him tightly.

At some point, he wasn’t sure when, Kom’rk actually fell asleep. He woke when Severn extracted himself from the warm blankets and stood. Looking up at his naked cyare, whose skin was glowing with the rays of early morning light, he sucked in a breath. Bright yellow eyes looked down at him, firm and resolved. He held the bow in his hands, knuckles turning white, and began to speak.

“I, Severn Vau of the Vau Clan, accept this gift and your intent. I will swear my heart to you and no one else.”

Kom’rk stood and gently took the bow away from his venriduur, carefully setting it on the ground next to them. Gathering up the younger teen he kissed him until they were both absolutely breathless. He spent the next hour making slow, sweet, love to his future mate.

[Sev]

After they’d washed off in a nearby stream and said good’bye for the time being he made his way back home and slipped silently into his room. If he was being honest with himself he was scared. He and Kom’rk had been seeing one another for seven months and he was more than sure where his heart belonged. But with the rising tensions between their clans he wasn’t sure how his father was going to react about a proposal from a son of the man he despised most.

You’d think the clan alliance would have been dissolved by now if the two men couldn’t stand each other but it was too beneficial for either clan to just break it without cause. Maybe a mating ceremony between the two clans could be a way to bridge the gap… who was he kidding. This was never going to work.

“Sev!” Freezing in place, heart thumping in his chest, he realized the voice was of his twin and relaxed.

“Dammit Scorch! You scared the shit out of me!” He hissed, quieter than his brother’s near shout.

“Where the hell have you been all night? Buir called a meeting for later today and I wanted to talk to you abou- is that a new bow?” Holding the bow closer to his body he just nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. Scorch smiled widely at him, excited. “Ooo, let me see!” Biting the inside of his cheek he let out a small sigh of defeat and held it out to his twin. If he didn’t let Scorch see it now he would either get their older brothers involved or try to steal it later so he could see it. He was an idiot like that.

Taking the bow Scorch ran his fingers over it and he nodded in appreciation. “Wow, this is great workmanship. Who did… you… uh, Sev?” Knowing what his brother had found he gave him a quelling look. “Where did you get this!?” Now it was his brother’s turn to hiss, looking back over his shoulder at the door to make sure no one else had come to find them.

“You know where. You’re looking right at it.” Scorch ran his fingers over the sigil again and fidgeted.

“Well… you didn’t steal it, you’re not crazy enough for that.” Such faith from his idiot twin, filled him with confidence it did. “There’s no way you won it as a prize, we’re not allowed to do that since we’re allied and all.” As he ran through all of the reasons he _shouldn’t_ have the bow Sev finally just grabbed it back. “That means you… oh Stars, Sev.” There was a look of confusion then a flash of fear in his eyes that made Sev’s stomach clench.

“Who?” He let out a shaky breath but glared at his twin.

“Really? You aren’t that fucking daft, Scorch. Drop the act.” Scorch scowled at him and crossed his arms.

“Alright! Void, you’re such an asshole sometimes.” He shook his head. “I knew you and Kom’rk were becoming friends but I didn’t expect… this.” His twin’s shoulders drooped and he ran a hand through his hair. “How are we going to explain this away?” He looked up and caught Sev’s eye. “We are going to try and explain this away, right?”

“No. Kom’rk offered and I accepted.” Scorch cursed.

“Sev, you can’t make a hasty decision like this. You might think that this is what you want but it could-”

“No. I want this, Scorch. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. He’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m not such a fucking _failure_ all the time!” He knew his voice had risen, he was too angry and stressed not to get loud, but he hadn’t expected to see Bosh and Flick to appear in the doorway, watching them worriedly. Usually they just ignored the twins stupid fights, they happened often enough.

Of course Sev had absolutely shit luck so he should have expected his brothers to poke their noses into his business.

“Sev, what are you talking about?” Bosh asked, eyes narrowed. Flick just gave him a sympathetic look, eyes flicking down to the bow in his hands.

“Aw, Sev. You didn’t.” Bosh looked between his brothers, eyes hardening.

“Someone want to fill me in? I don’t like being left in the dark.” Sev grit his teeth. He didn’t want to talk about this now. Not here. Now when their father could show up at any-

“Neither do I.” Everyone froze and a cold chill ran down Sev’s back. Pushing his elder sons out of the way Walon Vau stepped into the room, his wolfhound Mird following obediently on his heel.

“G-good morning, buir. It’s nothing. Sev and I are just arguing about something stupid again.” His brother’s eyes bore into his, begging him to lie. Sev wanted to, he really did. If he told the truth now he wasn’t sure he could get away unscathed. But he couldn’t. Not when it came to Kom’rk and his pledge. The heavy weight of the bow in his hands gave him a burst of courage. He took a deep breath.

“Patriarch of the Vau Clan,” he began. “I was approached with a gift and a question.” Scorch twitched toward him, looking panicked, as Flick shifted from one foot to the other. Even Bosh looked surprised, eyes darting between Sev and their father. There were many different traditional oaths and vows but when someone spoke of a ‘gift and a question’ it always had to do with a proposal. “Kom’rk Skirata of the Skirata Clan and I have-” Before he could even finish speaking he felt a blow to the side of his face and stumbled back, dazed.

“How dare you disgrace our family this way?” The man hissed, voice hard with anger. Sev opened his mouth to reply but another blow had him falling to his knees. A life of obeying the man, fearing his displeasure, made it hard for him to fight back as a hand gripped his hair and wrenched his head back. “How long have you been going behind my back to see that lowlife?”

“He’s not a lowlife!” Sev spat. He got a boot to the gut in response. As he wheezed he let go of the bow to catch himself so he didn’t fall face first into the floor. His brothers stood nearby, completely rooted to the spot. Walon picked up the bow and inspected it with a critical eye. Everyone knew that the weapons made by the Skirata clan were some of the best. The man sneered and tossed the bow to the ground.

“Did you even once stop to think what this could do to our clan’s reputation? To my reputation? You’re already uncouth enough. If others knew you were-” The man stopped suddenly, as if coming to some realization. Sev slowly sat up, wary of another blow. Walon’s eyes darkened and Sev felt his body begin to shake with fear. “Did you lie with him?” His heart froze in his chest and he found himself unable to speak. “Did. You. Lie. With. Him?” Closing his eyes he took a shaky breath. He opened his eyes again and gave his brothers a resigned, apologetic, look.

“Yes.” It was a damning answer and he knew it. Walon stepped back, practically vibrating with fury.

“Stand up.” He commanded. Sev slowly rose to his feet, stumbling slightly. Walon reached for his belt and the short whip uncoiled, falling so the end brushed the floor.

“Buir, y-you can’t-” The man cracked the whip and Scorch bit his tongue, head falling forward and eyes going to the floor in submission.

“Turn around.” Sev turned his back on his father, hands clenched and nails digging into his palms. “No son of mine is going to be a shameless harlot. When I’m finished you will never utter the name Kom’rk Skirata again.” Sev clenched his jaw and let his chin drop to touch his chest. He was no stranger to the beatings his father would give for disobedience but the whip… he had no idea what he was in for.

The first lash was like a trail of fire across his back and he let out a hiss of pain. Then came another… and another… and another. By the time the man was finished with him he was barely able to keep his feet beneath him. He could feel the blood oozing down his back and hear his own heavy breathing in his ears. “Bosh, your brother is to be confined to his room for the foreseeable future. Scorch, you are to return this to the Skirata clan and deliver a message. Flick, have one of the medics take care of his wounds.”

The last thing Sev heard was the sound of heavy boots walking away, then everything went black.

[Scorch]

Approaching the Skirata clan with the bow in hand he spoke to one of the guards about a meeting with their Patriarch on behalf of his clan. The man took one look at him and the bow then grinned. “Aren’t you Kal’s kid’s friend? Seen you hanging around with one of the triplets. Kom’rk, isn’t it?” Scorch gave him a friendly smile that didn’t reach his eyes and nodded.

“Something like that, yeah.” The guard looked down at the unstrung bow in his hand and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll send a runner.” Scorch nodded and waited with the guard until someone came to get him.

When he entered the main hall he expected to see Ordo standing with the patriarch, after all he was the current heir, but he hadn’t expected two of his brothers to also be in attendance. Looking at them he couldn’t be sure who they were, since they both had identical brothers, but he was fairly certain the younger one was Kom’rk.

Kal looked at him curiously, eyes dropping to the bow in his hands before a smile of recognition crossed his face. Scorch felt his insides twist into a sickening knot. Kom’rk must have already spoken with his father about Sev agreeing to marry him. Kal must have confused him with his brother. But his twin’s cyare wasn’t fooled. Before Kal could say anything Kom’rk stepped forward, body tense.

“Why are you here, Scorch?” Kal frowned in confusion before he stood a little straighter, eyes going sharp. So they _had_ been expecting Sev then. Swallowing down is nerves Scorch set the bow down on the ground, not wanting to hold it any longer but too afraid to approach. Kom’rk’s eyes narrowed on the bow before snapping back to him. Scorch took a shaky breath to try and calm himself. Walon Vau might think they were on the same field in terms of power but Scorch knew better. It was just that the Skirata clan had no reason to try and hurt them. Yet.

“The Patriarch of Clan Vau has… has annulled your claim.” Silence met his words and he felt his hands begin to shake. “Our Patriarch demands you stay away from his son and has banned you from our territory.” He looked between the three younger men then up to their father. Kal looked thunderous but there wasn’t much he could do about the situation. Clan territory belonged to the clan. If a clan leader decided they didn’t want someone on their land then they had every right to ban them from entering.

“Acknowledged. Kom’rk will stay away from your clan’s territory. Is that all?” He nodded, wanting nothing more than to go home and see if his brother was okay. “Then you are dismi-”

“No, there’s something I need to know.” Kal looked at Kom’rk but didn’t try to stop him as the teen got close enough to Scorch to loom over him. “What happened to Severn?” Oh he did _not_ want to answer that question.

“It’s none of your-” A calloused hand grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him closer, a low warning growl leaving him as his eyes flashed dangerously. But this close Scorch could see the worried furrow of his brow, the almost desperation in his tense body. Fuck, he really _was_ in love with Sev wasn’t he?

“Kom’rk! Let go of our guest. Now.” Grudgingly the older teen released him and took a step back, taking a few slow deep breaths to calm himself.

“He’s my venriduur, I have the right to know what’s happened to him.” Kom’rk said, glaring at his father.

“Not with the claim annulled.” Kom’rk’s fists clenched and Scorch shrank back slightly. His brother might not listen to the rumor mill but he was always in the thick of the gossip. He’d heard tales that Kom’rk was one of the spymaster’s best assassins. He really didn’t want to see what happened when the perpetually calm knight finally snapped.

“Actually… hm. Scorch, was it?” Looking over at Ordo when the man spoke to him he nodded. “Did Severn annul the agreement? Did he say anything about refusing the gift or not returning Kom’rk’s affection?” Scorch shook his head.

“N-no, he… he said he wanted it more than anything.” Kom’rk’s body relaxed slightly, a soft look coming over him that made Scorch feel terrible. This was someone who made his twin feel like he was finally worth something. Scorch might act like an idiot to get a few laughs but he wasn’t blind. He knew that his brother had self esteem issues that ran deep.

“Then the annulment can be challenged.” Ordo looked to Kal and the older man grinned viciously.

“Are you going to fight for your cyare, son?” Kom’rk’s eyes nearly shone as he turned to his father.

“Always. I already swore my heart to him.” The firm conviction in the older teen’s tone made him shake. Maybe… maybe they could help. They obviously wanted to keep Kom’rk and Sev together.

“Please…” He half whispered to the room, catching everyone’s attention. “Please save my brother.” Shutting his eyes he swallowed hard, trying to keep calm. A firm but reassuring pressure on his shoulder made him jump and open his eyes to Kal Skirata smiling at him sadly.

“We’ll help him. I swear it.” Scorch nodded. But he couldn’t help thinking- _Will you help save me too?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Sev and Kom'rk wouldn't leave me alone until I finished writing it. So have some angst with a dash of world-building!
> 
> I don't hate Walon Vau as a character. But I needed a 'bad guy' and he was a good choice for what I have planned.
> 
> Also- this is why I don't write sex scenes. I feel like it is entirely inadequate. :/


	8. Undine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Blyla for [EclipseKuran](/users/EclipseKuran)~  
> Sorry it took so long, lots of stuff happened recently that threw my schedule out of wack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaylas'ecura (16)  
> Bralor ‘Bly’ Vhehn (20)  
>  _Mentioned_ : Bralov 'Bacara' Vhehn (20)

Bralor Vhehn was on a solo mission, scouting out a new area just outside the border with the intent of expanding the family territory. It was the first time in a long time he’d been on his own and for that he was quite grateful. If he had to listen to his twin mutter under his breath about saving his accident prone ass one more time… Let’s just say he was glad the Matriarch, their grandmother, had sent them on different missions this time.

It wasn’t that his brother was wrong, per se, but honestly Bralor wasn’t as clumsy as others made him out to be. It was just that he seemed to attract the worst kind of luck. It was probably a curse from their ancestors for naming him after the word for success. Although if that where the case then his twin should have gotten at least a little of the bad luck. Alas, it was only Bralor who suffered.

Letting his mind wander was probably a bad idea when he was on a solo mission without his brother to watch his back, so he quickly pushed those thoughts away for later. Hearing the sound of running water in the distance he perked up and changed direction, hoping to find the source. New water sources were always good when expanding territory. It meant less work digging up new wells, although they would still need to work on irrigation if they wanted to plant a new farm.

What he finds is a small waterfall that would be perfect for a waterwheel. They could get a new mill up and running fairly quickly! The land would have to be worked on, and the trees would need to be cleared out, but he could already envision where everything would be. Pulling out his map he sat down on a fallen tree and quickly added his route and the possible new settlement. He’d already marked the trail so anyone from Clan Vhehn could follow it easily enough but having it on the map was just added insurance that it wouldn’t be overlooked.

When he was finished he left his bag next to the tree and pulled out his canteen. He was surprised to find it empty and figured he must have taken a few sips too many while he was lost in thought. Climbing over the rocks to the waterfall he glanced down and noted that the pool was surprisingly deep, enough to be quite dark. With one hand on the rock wall and his other holding the canteen he leaned forward to fill it from the cascade of water. When it was full he took a small swig before capping it and clipping it to his belt. Turning around to head back he missed a step when some of the more loose rocks slid into the water beneath his foot.

“Osi-!” His head slammed against one of the rocks and his vision swam before his eyes. The next thing he knew he was falling in slow motion. The light above him sparkled like crystals as he sank lower and lower. His lungs burned for air but his body refused to respond, his fingers barely twitching in response to his desperate attempt to swim back to the surface.

The light was going dim and he wondered, sadly, how much his death would hurt his family.

Something darted past his right leg and his eyes flicked toward it in alarm. A dark form moved through the water as if it belonged but it was far too large to be a fish. If he hadn’t been panicking over his imminent drowning he might have been worried about being eaten by some faceless thing. Something wrapped around each of his biceps and his world went black.

Hacking and spluttering he rolled onto his front and vomited onto the wet grass beneath his palms. Confusion clouded his mind as he tried to remember where the heck he was and why the heck he was suddenly throwing up all over the place. Snot dripped from his nose and water droplets fell to the ground. He could feel his tunics sticking to his body and it only raised more questions. Why was he wet?

 _“Just try to breathe, slowly now.”_ Heeding the advice of the voice he took in a slow deep breath but found himself coughing again. A gentle hand between his shoulder blades made him freeze as something inside his chest eased and he felt a little better. His skin crawled at the foreign sensation before he was quickly filled with warmth. The hand pulled quickly away. _“You-you’re Mandalorian?”_

Half drowned or not he was a warrior of Clan Vhehn and he couldn’t stay prone on the ground while some stranger put their hands on him. Hauling himself up he turned toward the speaker with the intent to demand answers but the questions he had been preparing to ask flew right out of his mind. Sitting with her legs tucked primly beneath her was a vision of loveliness the likes of which he had rarely seen in his entire life. Her skin was pale blue and shimmered faintly in the light, with delicate features and long hair parted into two braids on either side of her head. Her eyes were the colors of mossy stones and her hair was a glossy black that shone blue when she moved. She was about half his size and yet he could tell she was no child. The clothing she wore left little to the imagination and he would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t so entranced.

 _“I’m sorry, you must be very confused right now. I think you hit your head when you fell into the water.”_ Blinking he frowned slightly and looked behind the woman to the waterfall. How he’d forgotten that it was there he had no idea.

 _“What… are you?”_ He finally settled on asking, curious. The young woman looked torn between laughing at him or berating him for being too forward.

 _“Nai’adseili.”_ Nai-ad-say-lee? Naiad! She was one of the water folk!

 _“Oh! You’re a Suumpirade; a water spirit.”_ She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing a little, but quickly nodded. _“You… you saved me?”_ Finally she smiled at him and it was like the sun had risen. He felt his heart thudding in his chest, even as he told himself not to let it affect him. Naiad were from the Nymph family and were able to charm others, whether they tried to or not.

 _“I did. I couldn’t just let someone drown right in front of me.”_ She shook her head as if warding off a bad thought and he reached out to place a hand on hers before he could stop himself.

 _“Thank you. I owe you my life.”_ It was a huge debt to a Mandalorian. If another Mando’ad had saved him he might have brought the matter to their clan and asked what he could do to repay them, although if it was anyone from Clan Vhehn there wouldn’t have been a debt to begin with. Clan members looked out for each other. He wasn’t sure whether a Suumpirade would understand the magnitude of a Mandalorian owing someone their life but he hoped his tone could convey some of it at least.

 _“I don’t-”_ She stopped, looking him in the eyes, and let out a shuddered breath. _“There is something you can do to repay the debt, if you are willing.”_ He nodded. As long as it didn’t betray the tenets of the Resol’nare, or his people, he would do what she asked. _“Please don’t tell anyone I’m here, or that you’ve seen me. I didn’t know I was within Mandalore’s borders but this is one of the deepest pools of water I could find to submerge myself in to heal.”_ The thought that she’d been wounded and still saved him, came out of hiding even, made his heart clench in his chest.

 _“I swear I will tell no one that you are here. But… will you at least tell me your name? I am Bralor Vhehn, of Clan Vhehn.”_ He didn’t want to forget this gentle woman who had saved his life.

She smiled brightly. _“A pleasure to meet you Bralor of Clan Vhehn. I am Aaylas'ecura.”_ He grinned in response before sneezing and grimacing at his current terrible state of being. A small giggle escaped her before she reached into a bag he hadn’t noticed nearby and pulled out a square of cloth. _“You should really see to that, maybe start a fire. You don’t want to catch ill.”_

 _“Don’t worry,”_ he said waving off her concern. _“I’m Mando’ad, we don’t catch ill easily.”_ He would live to regret those words after going home and catching a nasty cold later that week.

The woman stood and turned back to the deep pool. Before she could return to the water he reached out and brushed her hand with his own to catch her attention. She stilled and looked back at him. _“Will you be staying here long? C-can I come back and speak with you again?”_ Her smile turned kind.

 _“I don’t know how long I will be here but… yes. I wouldn’t mind the company. It’s a little lonely out here.”_ With that she was gone, slipping into the water without even a splash.

“Dammit. How am I going to explain this?” Well, he could always say he tripped into the stream on his way home. It would be a blow to his pride but no one would think twice about it… at least he had seeing Aayla again to look forward to. He could endure a little teasing if it meant he could speak with the gentle water spirit once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Since someone asked what Twi'leks were in my universe I'll explain;  
> Twi'leks are all from the Nymph family. Blue-Purple ones are Naiads/Nerieds, Green-Brown ones are Dryads/Hamadryads, White-Yellow are Aurae/Auri (Wind Nymphs) etc. Alluring, elusive, and elemental in nature.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Osik- Shit  
> Nai’adseili- Naiads, water spirits.  
> Suumpirade- Children of the Lake


	9. Familia Gravamen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part three of the Skirata/Vau drama!

[Bosh]

After their father had left the room Sev collapsed in a dead faint, almost hitting the floor before Scorch had a chance to catch him. His younger brother had begun to silently sob over his twin, hands hovering over his back as he tried to figure out where exactly to grab Sev without hurting him further. Flick’s expression had gone carefully blank as he ran to fetch a medic, leaving Bosh to pick up the pieces.

He helped Scorch carry Sev to his bed, arranging him carefully so there would be no strain on his back. Pulling his boot knife he’d had to stop himself for a moment as Scorch began to panic over the blood. “Shh, Scorch, it’ll be okay. Let me help, little brother.” Cutting away the ruined tunic he carefully peeled the shredded fabric away from the wounds and let out a relieve sigh when he realized they weren’t as bad as he first thought. Half of the lashes had caught on his tunic, their father forgetting in his anger to order Sev to take it off, so they were only angry welts and thin gashes rather than deep gouges. “It’s not as bad as it looked.”

“Not as bad as it looked!? Bosh! He-he whipped him!” Try as he might he couldn’t help the near whole body flinch and the small flush of shame when Scorch’s eyes widened. “Bosh… you?” Taking the ruined tunic he tossed it into the far corner of the room. He really didn’t want to answer that.

“Yes.” This wasn’t the first time Walon Vau had used that whip against one of his sons. Just the first time he’d used it on a ‘useless spare.’

“But… why!?” His head hung and for the first time in a long time he showed his younger brother just how tired and vulnerable he was feeling.

“I am the Heir.” He said, as if it were the only explanation needed. At his younger brother’s half glare he sighed. “If I don’t perform to buir’s standards what do you think would happen? I know you’re smart, Scorch, you only pretend to be an idiot.” The younger teen let out a small, wet, cough.

“Sev said that too…” They looked down at their brother and Bosh was thankful he’d fallen unconscious. He knew the sting and burn of the whip all too well. “If you aren’t a good heir then buir would turn to Flick, wouldn’t he?” Bosh nodded.

“Either to ‘entice’ me to do better,” his mouth twisted into a grim frown, “or to train up the perfect replacement.” Near silence followed his statement, only interrupted by random sobs or a stray hiccup from his younger brother. Putting an arm around Scorch’s shoulders he gave him a small hug, wishing he could do more. “We’ll figure it out, Scorch. For now lets just take care of Sev. Everything will be okay in the end.” The other teen shook his head.

“Do you know why he wants me to return the bow?” Bosh hesitated, hand clenching into a fist at his side. Of curse he knew.

“It’s a taunt and a punishment. He wants to anger the Skirata clan so he can use this against them somehow, and he wants to punish you by sending you away from Sev.” Others might not understand their relationship but Scorch and Sev were pretty inseparable, even for twins. Sev was the steady and honest rock that Scorch clung to when all the lies and fake smiles became too much. While Scorch brought warmth and affection that Sev couldn’t find anywhere else. At least… not until he’d started being courted by Skirata.

“Did you know about this?” Scorch shook his head.

“I knew they were becoming friends but they weren’t very touchy with one another. Most of what I saw was them trading barbed words at one another and thought that someone else had finally realized Scorch wasn’t a terrible person, just really bad at talking to others. I think Flick knew more than I did. He didn’t seem as surprised.” A light knock on the door had them both turning to look.

Healer Lycir ducked their head and entered the room. They didn’t ask what had happened or why, just took one look at the injuries and got to work. Bosh gently herded his younger brother to the other side of the room, picking up the bow as he went so it wasn’t lying in the middle of the floor. Flick quietly sidled up to Scorch’s other side and looped an arm around him as well, giving him a quick hug before letting go.

“Did you know?” He asked in place of Scorch, who was busy watching the healer working on Sev.

“About them?” Flick glanced to the healer then flicked a couple of hand signs where he was sure he wouldn’t be seen. Even though Lycir was someone they trusted there was always the chance that they might accidentally let something slip in front of their father. _‘I knew. Caught Skirata pinning Sev to a wall. Sev didn’t seem to mind it too much.’_ Bosh just stared at him for a moment, mouth agape.

 _‘You never told me!’_ Flick gave him a sad smile.

 _‘What would you have done?’_ Bosh grit his teeth. He knew what he would have done.

Nothing.

He might have warned Sev to stay away from Kom’rk but he wouldn’t have tried to interfere if his younger brother ignored the warning. He wanted his brothers to be happy, to live without fear. It was why he took the brunt of their father’s anger. The myriad scars on his body were proof of that conviction. Walon had only ever used the whip or his blade on Bosh and he had come to accept it as part of life. But seeing the aftermath of their father’s wrath on his younger brother… it twisted something inside of him.

“You should do as father ordered.” Bosh said finally, holding the bow out to Scorch. “Do the task then come right back so you can be here for him.” Scorch shakily took the bow from his hands and gave him a jerky nod.

“Stay safe, little brother.” He watched Scorch leave and felt Flick leaning against him, a show of comfort and support. If only Walon knew how much stronger his sons were than the man gave them credit for. How smart and tenacious they could be. Maybe he would…

No. Walon would never be the father they wanted or needed and he was tired of deluding himself. Bosh wondered briefly if they shouldn’t just leave the clan but clan dynamics were ingrained into them from a young age. It was hard to think of himself in any other colors but Clan Vau.

 _‘We need to behave. At least for now.’_ Flick said, fingers practically dancing as he spoke. _‘When the time is right we’ll run to the Prince or the King himself.’_ Bosh wasn’t too keen on the idea but… seeing all the red covering Sev’s back, that wasn’t the blood of their enemies, was disturbing. It was time to come up with a different strategy. If it meant leaving their clan and striking out on their own he’d do it. He would take the burden of leadership and free his brothers.

 _‘Things will change, Flick. Truth, honor, vision.’_ He swore, eyes fierce.

[Kal]

Walon Vau might have thought he had ingratiated himself to the Mando’ade, that he was one of them now, but Kal knew better. The bastard was Mando’ad in name only. He had no in depth knowledge of their traditions or the intricacies of clan law. The old exceptions to the rules that were learned only when one had lived their entire life steeped in Mandalorian traditions as Kal had. Normally he wouldn’t begrudge a man for lack of knowledge, seeing as he had many newly transitioned Mando’ade in his own clan. But whereas those new members of his clan tried their damnedest to steep themselves in their new culture Walon’s attention was only on how much he could absorb to get what he wanted. Kal still wasn’t sure how he’d gathered so many families to his banner, other than the fact he had gathered like minded individuals who preferred to keep to their own cultures and only act as Mando’ad when a situation called for it.

It was a disgrace to their people, their culture, and to Manda themselves.

This new development between Severn and Kom’rk, and Walon’s reaction to it, was just the final straw, really.

* * *

He’d known his son was seeing someone from Clan Vau, had seen the boy himself from afar when Kom’rk brought him around the clan territory. At first he’d thought they were just friends, seeing as they never appeared to be very physical with one another like potential lovers might be. Some of his clan had even come to him in confusion, wondering why someone who spouted off violent death wishes to the patriarch’s son was allowed in their territory. Especially if he was from an allied clan. When he’d brought it up to Kom’rk his kid had just shrugged, giving him a cheeky smirk, and said it was how Severn acted with everyone.

That should have been his first clue. That amused yet fond little smirk said more than words ever could.

His other sons began to notice the changes in their brother as well and there was some playful teasing going around that made him shake his head in amusement. Kom’rk was the most quiet of his sons, preferring to listen to what others did and did not say before speaking his piece. So when Kom’rk actually raised his voice at someone to defend his ‘friend’ it should have clued Kal in to what the boy meant to him.

Kal had been in the artisan’s square, working to solve a dispute between two blacksmiths, when he’d spied the Vau boy. He’d been coming around for nearly three months now and was a familiar sight standing next to his kid. Glancing around he was surprised to find Kom’rk missing from his side. Perhaps the boy had come to find him or was waiting for him to appear? It wouldn’t be the first time.

A group of young clan members, about the same age as the Vau boy, were eying him warily as the lone teen looked over some arrows a fletcher was making; asking questions about weight and materials. While rough in the way he spoke it was obvious the teen was truly interested in the arrows and picked one up to examine it more thoroughly. The fletcher didn’t look up from their work but Kal could see a small upward tick of their lips, pride in their work obvious.

“Get your grubby mitts off, Vau.” One of the other teens said as the group sauntered over. “Keep to your own clan’s sub-par equipment.” Kal scowled and stalled the two smiths, who quickly became aware of the interaction between the group of teens. Normally he would let a group sort out their own mess, unless it devolved into a huge brawl. But this was a precarious situation with the teen being from another clan, an allied clan. If the kid got hurt in his territory there would be hell to pay.

While Kal hated Walon Vau there was a benefit to being allies. Namely that Vau couldn’t openly move against him either politically or militarily. Thank Manda his boys were almost done their investigations into Vau and they could be rid of the bastard as soon as possible.

“With that ‘sub-par equipment’ I was tapped for the elite marksmen. If your gear is so much better than mine then where’s your excuse?” Kal was torn between wanting to sigh in exasperation or chuckle at the kid’s courage, as reckless as it was. “Now get the fuck out of my face before I break yours, coward.” His amusement changed to wariness at the teen’s tenseness, his readiness to act.

“We’ve got you six to one, archer, and unlike you we’re squires. We’re trained to put down weaklings like you.” Turning fully away from the smiths he was about to shout to break them up when a voice rose above the din, making everyone freeze.

“Pack it in!” The barked command sounded so much like something he’d say, exact tone and everything, that even Kal was stunned still for a moment. Materializing out of nowhere Kom’rk gently grabbed the Vau boy’s wrist and pulled the other teen protectively behind him. “I think you forget your manners.” His son said, voice louder and more heated than he’d ever heard before. “Severn Vau is the son of the Vau Clan Patriarch, whom we are currently allied with. I think you will find that regardless of his chosen profession he is highly skilled and has earned his place in the army through dedication and hard work.” The teen’s face flushed red and he shifted closer to Kom’rk’s back, a complicated expression on his face.

“You’re defending him?” One of the group asked, giving Kom’rk a confused look.

“Severn is my,” there was a slight pause, “comrade. He was also invited here by me, as my guest, and was minding his own business before you approached.” His son turned to the fletcher. “He was admiring your arrows before I arrived, did you feel insulted or threatened in any way?” The woman shook her head.

“No, Alor, we were just discussing materials and different fletching techniques. The lad knows his stuff.” Somehow this just made the Vau teen turn even more red and shuffle from foot to foot, as if embarrassed.

“As you can see he was causing no trouble.” Kom’rk said lightly. He turned his gaze back to the group of squires, eyes dangerous. “There was no need to start this senseless… disturbance. I think you will find that few here will back your claims if you attempt to make something more out of this.” The group looked at the small crowd that had stopped to watch things unfold and quickly backed down.

Once everything was over Kom’rk turned to speak quietly with his friend, leaning close to the younger teen. After a moment the boy’s body relaxed and he started to smile, nodding and agreeing with whatever had been said. Kal watched his son buy a quiver of arrows from the fletcher and grinned in amusement when the Vau boy tried to refuse, only to have the fletcher also insist he take them.

“Alor?” He turned back to the smiths and rubbed at his forehead.

“I will return to sort this out in a moment. There’s something I need to take care of.” The smiths looked behind him at his son and the Vau boy then grudgingly agreed.

Following the two teens he intended to assure them that, as he had witnessed the interaction himself, any complaints from the group of squires would be immediately dismissed. Turning a corner he quickly backpedaled and flattened himself against the stone building. It had only been for a brief moment but he had seen the position the two teens were in. He ran a hand over his face in exasperation.

The Vau boy, Severn his son had called him, had his back to the wall and was penned in by the body of Kom’rk. It looked comfortable, as if they were used to being so close to one another.

“You need to back off, you idiot, or they’re going to find out!” The teen practically hissed, sounding quite angry. There was a small chuckle that was definitely from Kom’rk and Kal wondered why his kid would antagonize the already pissed off teen.

“Oh, sweetheart, the only reason I haven’t screamed it from the rooftops is because I know how shy you are. Let them wonder, I don’t care.” There was a brief moment of silence. “I should have kissed you in front of them.” When he spoke again Kal could practically hear the smug amusement in his son’s voice. The younger teen made a noise like an affronted cat.

“You wouldn’t dare!” There was the sound of movement, cloth shifting and scraping against stone, then a pleased gasp. Kal decided he wanted to be anywhere else and quickly left the two teens alone together.

He’d gotten his answers, he didn’t need to know any more.

* * *

Hearing the Vau boy’s twin breaking down as he described what had happened just that morning filled Kal with a mix of disgust and fury, although it was nothing on how Kom’rk was reacting. He was certain the Vau teen had never seen a true expression of Manda’s gifts before, since Walon barely acknowledged the spiritual aspects of being Mando’ade. Seeing the creeping black scales climb up Kom’rk’s skin, his fingers ending in sharp talons, made the poor boy freeze in terror. The fact that Kom’rk’s eyes were shifting from their normal blue to a vibrant yellow didn’t help either.

Thankfully his boys were smart. Mereel had vanished halfway through their talk and reappeared with his younger brothers. They wrestled Kom’rk out of the room to calm him down.

It was never pretty when one of them fell into a rage like this but it was a rare thing. This was only the second time this had ever happened to Kom’rk specifically, who was the calmest of his children. Kal understood. If someone had hurt his late wife in the same manner he would have fallen into a rage too.

“Your buir hitting you when he’s angry isn’t an uncommon occurrence, is it?” Scorch turned his attention back to Kal, still pale and shaking slightly.

“It’s… yes? He corrects us when we do something wrong...” The boy wouldn’t meet his eyes as he said it. It was obvious he knew that wasn’t how other families raised their children. How Mando’ade were supposed to raise their children. “Bosh got it pretty bad, being the eldest, but Sev got it the worst. He can’t stop himself from talking back so…” The teen looked so forlorn that he couldn’t help reaching out and pulling the boy to him. The teen stiffened at first but quickly melted into his hold, trembling faintly.

“What about you, ad’ika, just because someone else has it worse doesn’t mean it isn’t affecting you.” The boy grabbed onto the edge of his armor, his breath hitching as he tried not to cry.

“I’m fine.” He croaked. “I’m better at giving the right answers and following orders than Sev is. Since I’m the youngest I get ignored a lot too.” Kal let out a sigh and ran his hand through the boy’s hair. The boy flinched but didn’t move away from his hand. It took all of Kal's willpower to stay calm and listen to the boy ramble until he was almost calm again.

Reluctantly he let the teen pull away from him. “I have to go back. I was only supposed to send the message.” Kal bit back his immediate rejection. This boy wasn’t his and he couldn’t keep him from his injured twin.

“I’ll have someone escort you.”

Once the teen was gone Kal sat down, rubbing at his forehead and wondering if he should take something for his budding headache. Ordo looked down at him, frowning. “You want to adopt them, don’t you.” He let out a rough chuckle.

“Do you blame me?” His eldest son shook his head.

“No. Vau is a disgrace to all Mando’ade. He doesn’t deserve his sons.” Kal couldn’t help the proud smile that crossed his face as he stood.

“Let’s get to planning. Then we can oust the bastard once and for all.”


	10. Roc and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan Vos, Knight of the Jedi Order, is having a string of _very_ bad luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan has arrived, all.
> 
> The Kiffar are half human half shape-shifters, and all of them are avian in nature.

Falling through the canopy of trees the winged man cursed vehemently in every language he had learned from his crechemates growing up. Of course a few of them were far better at it than he was, even if the sounds came easily to someone like himself. Hitting the ground, hard, he lay there for a moment catching his breath. There was no way he was going to try flying again any time soon, not with the Roc that was flying overhead.

Standing he dusted himself off and checked for any wounds. Blood dripped from his shoulder and he growled in annoyance. But at least it wasn't his wings, that was fortunate. Listening to the sounds of the wood around him he tried to get his bearings but found himself completely and utterly turned around.

To be honest he wasn't even supposed to be in this area to begin with. He was supposed to be on his way to Kalevala. But with a storm over the desert and a Roc up above he wasn't going to be making it there any time soon.

Heading in the direction his instincts told him was north he went about the slow process of receding his wings and shifting his legs back into those that resembled a human. While the Kiffar weren't an exotic species by any stretch of the imagination they did tend to stick out like a sore thumb this far from their homeland. So with the feathers slowly shifting back into skin he carefully made his way over tangled roots.

The sooner he found running water and a place to camp out for the night the better. Oh if only Aayla could see him now. He was sure she'd be laughing at his recklessness, then freaking out about the Roc that tried to eat him, and finally scolding him about how irresponsible he was being. It was always adorable when his squire tried to mother hen him.

A small brook leading into the forest made him sigh in relief and he knelt to slake his thirst. It wasn't like he had to worry about any sort of poisons in the water or anything, Kiffar were venomous to begin with so their biology tended to chew up and spit out other toxins. There had been a whole class on it, which Obi-wan had delighted in teasing him about. Little bugger didn't have a whole damned class dedicated to his species... whatever it was.

Gathering some dried moss and some twigs he made a quick bundle with some twine he always had on hand, never knew when you'd need a good bit of twine, and continued on his hunt for a place to sleep. He was pretty sure wherever this was there were no nearby settlements, unless a group of Elves had decided to pitch camp in the middle of nowhere.

A small outcropping of stone with an overhang was pretty much the perfect spot to hide and he gladly stopped walking. Making a small fire with the driest wood he could find, so there was no smoke, he pulled out the small pot he kept in his pack for rations and filled it with water from the nearby creek. Throwing together a meal he finally sat down to look over his wound. It hadn't been as bad as he first thought when he wrapped it earlier in the day. There was no debris stuck inside and although it stung like hell it didn't feel inflamed or puffy. So no infection then. Taking out some of the medicine Bant insisted they carry with them, no buts, he cleaned the jagged gash with water, gritting his teeth against the pain, and smeared the nasty looking green sludge over the mess of his skin. Pulling out a clean bandanna, the closest thing he had to an actual bandage, he wrapped the wound and tied it tight enough it wouldn't slip but not tight enough to cut off the circulation.

By the time he was finished the pot was boiling and his meager meal was finished cooking. Taking the pot off the fire he went to the creek and set it in the cool water, so he didn't boil his own tongue off trying to eat the grainy mush.

As night began to fall he fed more wood into the fire, knowing it would keep at least some of the predators away. But rather than sleep on the ground, like one of his crechemates might, he quickly climbed a nearby tree and settled in for a cold and uncomfortable night.

Waking in the morning to shouts down below he stiffened and sleepily stared down at the armored figures below him. A moment later he was wide awake.

Aw kriff him. Mandalorians!

How in the fierfek had he ended up in the middle of Mandalorian territory? Or did he just have the bad luck to be found by an advanced scouting party? There was no way they hadn't noticed his camp, considering they were tromping through and around it. He just hoped that none of them had the bright idea to look up.

It was actually a failing of most land dwelling species, he noticed. After a certain point above them they just... stopped looking. It was the sort of thing only prey species and avian types like himself did out of habit.

More barked orders and sharp words. The Mandalorians all felt agitated in the ether, or at least what little he could feel of them in the ether. They all wore that cursed metal of theirs that repelled the touch of Ether. The very thought of which made his skin crawl.

If they caught him there was only two ways out. Join or die. Even then he'd heard that they generally just killed jedi outright. They were mortal enemies, after all. Or at least that was what the professors and sages taught at the Temple. Obi-wan was probably the only one who had ever been close enough to the Mandalorians to really learn about them before returning to the Order. So he had a lot more information than anyone.

If only the Council hadn't forbidden him from sharing his knowledge with anyone below the level of Senior Knight. Maybe then Quinlan would know what the hell was going on and why the group hadn't left already.

A shout from below made him freeze, dread filling his mind. How the hell had they found him so quickly?

Someone called out from below but sadly he didn't understand their harsh tongued language. Something thunked against the bark of the branch beneath him and he realized it was a grappling hook. Looked like he was no longer safe. Shifting his bag out of the way he sprang onto his feet, grinning almost ferally when the warriors climbing the tree realized just how tall he was, looming over them all in the near dark of dawn.

"Sorry, but I don't feel like being captured today." He said as he reached for his twin knives, just in case. Jumping from the branch he heard what he was positive were curses coming from the Mandalorians, who all scrambled below him. They drew their weapons, mostly swords, and Quinlan scoffed. Crossing his arms he focused his intent and let out a hiss of pain as feathers exploded from his back. It always hurt to transform all at once like that.

Using Ether to lift himself up, regardless of wind currents, he leapt backward and landed on another tree branch. The warriors gaped at him for a moment before someone whistled, loudly. "Gree!" Behind him he heard a rustling in the trees and turned just in time to see a body hurtling toward him.

"What the kark!?" The body slammed into him, knocking the breath from his chest and making him drop his knives. A hand gripped the collar of his tunic and he growled at them as he tried to dislodge them from his front. He knew they were falling, he'd have to do something about that if he didn't want to get flattened against the forest floor.

Suddenly his vision was filled with bright green feathers and he gaped in surprise. Another Kiffar? But he thought the Mandalorians were all- he never managed to finish his thought as a blow to the side of his head made the world go dark.

Waking without a sound he slowly took in what information he could from where he was laying. His sense of everything felt muffled, far away. It was like being half blind. When he finally registered what that meant he realized he'd screwed up, big time. The Roc had chased him all the way into Mandalorian territory and they hadn't taken to his presence well. If they had searched his unconscious body, and judging by the lightness of his clothes they had, then they knew he was a jedi. It was only a matter of time before they decided to kill him.

"He's awake." He frowned. Why were they speaking a common tongue now? Opening his eyes he let out a sigh and sat up gingerly, careful of his injured shoulder and the throbbing in his head.

"...so when does the torture start? Or whatever it is you lot do?" Kriff. He couldn't help but to stir the pot, could he? Obi always said his smart mouth would get him into trouble.

"Your name, first of all. We already know you're a Jetii." The way they spoke the word was like a curse, as if a jedi was something tainted- unholy.

"I am a child of the Vos Eyrie. You can call me Que." It made his blood boil to use those names but if it helped him get out of this mess then he would use whatever he could.

"Vos Eyrie?" The first Mandalorian looked at him before turning to the second. This one was fairly tall, well built, and wearing dark green armor meant to blend in with the forest. It was no wonder he hadn't seen the bastard immediately.

"One of the four largest Kiffar clans. Depending on where he falls in the family line we could very well be looking at a prince." Didn't that just make him want to scream. There was no way some random Mandalorian would know that unless they were also Kiffar, or had studied Kiffar extensively.

"And what's your name, bright wings?" He asked, fluttering his lashes, although the vicious grin crossing his face probably took away from the overall image. The first Mandalorian snorted as the second one reached up and slipped off their helmet. Quinlan sat stunned as a beautiful woman with warrior braids running along her head smiled at him. Her eyes were a russet brown and seemed far softer than they had any right to be.

"Gree Tav, of Clan Gilamar." Eyrie Tav, they were also one of the four largest families. It was said their skills lay in their ability to blend into any environment. Well it certainly seemed like they had earned their reputation, with how she had come out of nowhere to tackle him from the sky.

"The pleasure is all mine." A wicked grin crossed his face and the woman's smile turned sharp.

"Charming. Ori'vod? Would you like to continue the questioning or shall I?" The man, who had kept his bucket on, leaned back against the wall of what appeared to be some sort of cell. How close had he been to an actual settlement? Or had he just been unconscious that long?

"Go for it vod'ika. But one wrong move from the aruetii and I'll be forced to gut him." Quinlan scowled, he knew that word. It was what the Mandalorians referred to non-Mandalorians as. It could be taken as anything from 'person who is not one of us' to 'scumbag' to 'traitor of our people.' Obi had mentioned that it was hard to differentiate which version they were using at any one time but he was fairly certain that even in the friendliest of terms they were always using it as a slight against anyone not their own.

"Que Vos, what were you doing inside Mandalore's borders?" Looking back at the woman he let himself lean back against the wall, only flinching a little when he realized his transformation hadn't receded like it should have. At least his wings were softer and warmer than a cold stone wall.

"I was traveling to meet my... I guess you could call her my daughter." There was a sound of surprise from the helmeted Mando.

"Jetii do not have children." Quinlan scoffed.

"Jedi sire children all the time, we just aren't allowed to let that kind of relationship overshadow our duties." Of course Aayla wasn't his actual daughter, at least not by blood, but they didn't need to know that.

"How did you end up in our borders then?" He grimaced.

"I was diverted by a storm, I didn't feel like trying to fly through it, and a Roc attacked me out of nowhere." The Mandos shared a look, even though the male's eyes could barely be seen through his helmet.

"So you were attacked and landed to get away from it? What then? Why did you start heading inland?" Quinlan shook his head.

"I just started heading north. I didn't realize how close I was to the border, or that I was already inside your kingdom. I was just looking for water and shelter for the night before trying to get my bearings. If the Roc was gone I could fly above the trees and locate a familiar landmark."

"Hmm. Plausible." Quinlan scowled at the helmeted Mando. It wasn't just plausible! It was the truth, kark it!

"Why else would I come into the kingdom of a bunch of abductors?" There was a long drawn out pause as the two stood there, staring at him, and he realized he'd karked up. Obi-wan had warned him that the Mandalorians thought they were somehow saving people from the mana worms. That ether was some sort of otherworldly entity that was plotting to devour everything. And he'd just insulted them to their faces. Just great.

"And who did we abduct from the Vos Eyrie that would have you this distraught?" Gree Tav asked him in a mild tone of voice. "Or are you talking about our Prince Consort? Who the jetii stole from us for four years." Quinlan stilled, his brown eyes growing sharp.

"You bastards! What do you know about Obi-wan?" His best friend had been missing for weeks now and no one had been able to contact him. If he was back in Mandalore then they were going to have to take drastic measures to get him back out again. The last time they'd saved Obi-wan from the Mandalorians it had been an absolutely insane plan concocted by the Maverick himself- Qui-gon Jinn.

"The question is- what do you know about him? You're speaking very familiarly about someone who already has a mate in our King." A shiver ran down his back at the low, angry, growl coming from the helmeted Mando. There was something about him that was just dangerous.

"Obi-wan is..." He wanted to lie, to say something to provoke them into making a mistake, but his instincts told him to tell the truth. He'd learned long ago to listen to his instincts. "...he's my brother. We grew up together." There was a sense of disbelief in the air, even though he knew he was cut off from ether thanks to whatever weird magic the Mandalorians used. But even so the posture of their bodies said they didn't believe him. "I could tell you all about his childhood, if you like. About how no knight master would take him because he was always sickly or getting into fights. I could tell you that his first mission was to a mining colony, or how he helped the King of Melidaan come into power." That seemed to catch their attention.

They spoke rapidly in that language of theirs and as they got louder, clearly beginning to argue, he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. They may have been discussing what to do with him or they may very well have been having a lovers quarrel... no. Watching them it didn't look anything like a spat between lovers. More like a parent arguing with their already grown child.

"Alright, Que, tell me your real name and I'll believe you. At least for now." Quinlan let his head fall back into the warmth of his wings and closed his eyes.

"Quinlan. Quinlan Vos." There was a triumphant sound and he lifted his head to look at Gree.

"I knew I recognized you. You're the Vos Heir, the one with the ability to know things by touching items." Cursing under his breath he gave the woman a wry smile.

"Sorry to say I don't recognize you in return. You'd think I'd remember such brightly colored wings." The other Mando stood and started heading for the door without a second look back.

"You wouldn't remember me, even though we have met before. Back then I was molting, my wings were a dingy brown and no one wanted to speak with me... except you." Quinlan blinked. He didn't remember that happening at all. "Funny, how things change. I remember your wings being so beautiful, all white and golden brown. Now they look like dark ash." He swallowed, hard. Wings changing colors as a Kiffar grew up wasn't anything new. But what had been done to change his wings... it was better left unsaid.

"Sorry to disappoint." She smiled as she picked up her helmet.

"You haven't disappointed me. On the contrary, you've been very helpful." Leaving the cell she closed the door and locked it behind her. "See you again at latemeal, Swan boy." He gaped at the door before letting his head drop back against his wings with a groan.

"How could I forget? Duckling." So that's where she'd gone. Well. He knew one thing now, at least.

He was absolutely kriffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gree as an amazonian bird woman. I couldn't resist. :3


	11. Dramatis Personae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT a chapter.

The Jedi Order are a sect of Mage scholars and warriors. They live a very monastic lifestyle but will help any who ask for it.

Yoda: Ancient, male, Goblin. Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.  
Yan Dooku: 57, male, Serennian. Knight of the Jedi Order. (Retired, now Count of Serreno)  
Qui-gon Jinn: Deceased, 48, male, Unknown. Knight of the Jedi Order.  
Obi-wan Kenobi: 21, male, Stewjonian. Knight of the Jedi Order.  
Anakin Skywalker: 12, male, Unknown. Squire of Obi-wan Kenobi.

Quinlan Vos: 25, male, Kiffar. Senior Knight of the Jedi Order, Jedi Shadow.  
Aaylas'ecura: 16, female, Nai’adseili | Water Nymph. Squire of Quinlan Vos.

Mandalore is mountainous with thick forests and sprawling plains. The people there are very militaristic. Their main exports are metal and gemstones.

Clan Fett  
Jango Fett: 34, male, Mandalorian. King of Mandalore.  
Cody Fett: 18, male, Mandalorian. Crown Prince of Mandalore.  
Rex Fett: 14, male, Mandalorian. Second Prince of Mandalore.  
Boba Fett: 12, male, Mandalorian. Third Prince of Mandalore.

Myles Vhehn: 42, male, Mando. Adviser, Right Hand of the King.  
(Alpha 17) Alphard Gaarla Ta’rayd: 68, male, Mando, Captain of the Guard. Twin of Fordo.  
Cort Vhehn Davin: 29, male, Bodyguard for Boba.

Clan Gaarla  
Fordo Gaarla: 68, male, Mando, Gaarla Patriarch. Twin of Alphard.  
Elsbet Gaarla: 65, female, Lupine Beastfolk/Mando, Fordo’s wife and mother of the Wolf Pack.

Wolffe Gaarla- 48, male, Mando, Master of the Kennel  
(Plo Koon) Peony Connifer- 48, female, Fae, Herbalist and Royal Gardener  
(Hevy) Hemlock Gaarla- 19, male, Mando  
(Fives) Ray Gaarla- 14, male, Mando, Squire, Twin of Yayah  
(Echo) Echinacea ‘Eyayah’ Gaarla- 14, female, Mando, Squire, Twin of Ray  
(Tup) Tulip Gaarla- 11, female, Mando, Stablehand.

(Comet) Ca’galaar Gaarla- 48  
(Sinker) Sho’sen Gaarla- 48  
(Boost) Laamic Gaarla- 48

Alphard Gaarla Ta’rayd: 68, male, Mandalorian, Captain of the Royal Guard.  
Shi’riven Ta’rayd: 62, female, Durai'adseili | Dryad/Mando, wife of Alphard

(Ponds) Piriik Gaarla Ta'rayd- twin of Adatoya, 45  
(Fox) Adatoya Gaarla Ta'rayd- twin of Piriik, 45  
(Thorn) Buurenau Gaarla Ta'rayd- twin of Tracyn, 42  
(Thire) Tracyn Gaarla Ta'rayd- twin of Buurenau, 42

Clan Skirata  
Kal- Patriarch  
Ordo- Eldest son. 24  
A’den and Mereel- Second oldest, twins. 22  
Prudii, Kom’rk, and Jaing- Third oldest, triplets. 19  
Shak (Niner)- Adopted 18  
Venku (Darman)- Adopted. 16  
Atin- Adopted 16  
Fi- Adopted 14

Clan Vau  
Walon Vau- Patriarch  
(Boss) Bosh- Eldest 21  
(Fixer) Flick- Second 19  
Severn and Scorch- twins. 17

Clan Vhehn  
Maryka Vhehn: 73, female, Mando, Clan Matriarch

Myles Vhehn: 42, male, Mando. Adviser, Right Hand of the King.  
Ca’cera Vhehn, 45, female, Mando  
Cirka Vhehn, 24, female, Mando, twin of Kursha.  
Kursha Vhehn, 24, female, Mando, twin of Cirka.  
Tenri Vhehn, 18, male, Mando.

Unnamed Parents  
Cort Vhehn Davin, Clan Fett: 29, male, Bodyguard for Boba. Cousin to Myles.  
Ruusad Davin, Clan Davin: 25, male, husband of Cort.

Unnamed Parents  
(Bly) Bralor Vhehn: 20, male, Warrior for Clan Vehn. Cort’s younger brother. Twin of Balov.  
(Bacara) Bralov Vhehn: 20, male, Warrior for Clan Vehn. Cort’s younger brother. Twin of Bralor.

Others  
(Kix) Kebiin Gero- 18, male, Clan Gaarla, Healer.  
(Jesse) Jorri Akaad- 19, male, Clan Gaarla, Advanced Scout.  
Tyrric Jaair- Seneschal of Keldabe.  
Marda Sohm of Clan Jaair- Lady of Kranarsa, Clan Matriarch.  
Quiren of Clan Rattak- Lord of Cuirbral, Clan Patriarch.  
Sphen of Clan Tarsus- Lord of Wervheti, Clan Patriarch.

Kalevala is a small kingdom that borders Mandalore. It’s capitol city is Sundari, an oasis in the middle of a harsh desert. Their main exports are silk and pottery. They have an alliance with the Jedi Order.

Adonai Kryze: 40, male, Kalevalen. Duke of Kalevala.  
Satine Kryze: 20, female, Kalevalan. Princess of Kalevala.  
Bo-katan Kryze: 17, female, Kalevalan. Second Princess of Kalevala

Naboo is a large kingdom that borders the very edge of Mandalore. Their main city is a major port and they excel in all forms of trade. Their main exports are fish, cattle, and wheat.

Ruwee Arlen Naberrie: 50, male, Nabooian. King of Naboo.  
Jobal Rikaal Naberrie: 49, female, Nabooian. Queen of Naboo.  
Sola Chandria Naberrie: 19, female, Nabooian. First Princess of Naboo. Ambassador.  
Padme Amidala Naberrie: 16, female, Nabooian. Crown Princess of Naboo.  
Sidric Palpatine Naberrie: 46, male, Nabooian. Duke of Naboo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the wonderful world of my character notes!  
> There's actually a lot more but that would be spoilers.
> 
> Thought you guys might appreciate this, even if it's a bit scatterbrained.


	12. The Medic and the Scout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Drops some Jessix and hides.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jorri Akaad (Jesse) 19, male, Born Mandalorian, Clan Gaarla, Advanced Scout.  
> Kebiin Gero (Kix) 18, male, Changed Mandalorian, Clan Gaarla, Medic.

[Jorri]

Returning to camp, hidden in an out of the way grove, the lone scout tried not to think about how he was going to get scolded. It was pretty pathetic to be so frightened of a single person but if he was being honest with himself there were a lot of reasons to be afraid of Kebiin Gero. The devastatingly soft periwinkle eyes that could express utter disappointment in you and all of your ancestors decisions with a single look was just the tip of the spear.

The fact that Jorri was undeniably head over heels for him was another good reason.

As an advanced scout he was often the first to encounter new dangers in the wild. It was one of the most perilous jobs in the army and only the courageous, crazy, or suicidal would choose to do the job. Unless you were someone with an inherent gift like his own.

Coming to a stop in some bushes he crouched down so he could remain unseen. Placing his hand against the ground to steady himself he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again his entire world had expanded. All of his senses heightened and his body remained locked in place as he processed through the new sensations.

Faint puffs of wind brushing against his face, the taste of damp earth on his tongue, the pleasant rumble of familiar voices nearby, the scent of spiced meat cooking over a fire, and the breathtaking sight of sunlight as it filtered through multicolored leaves to play across the forest floor. Letting out the breath he had been holding his world faded back into its normal state of being. He took a moment to just revel in the peace and quiet before he had to show his face back in camp.

Walking into camp as nonchalantly as he could he waved at the Ta’rayd twins, Evaan and Eviin, who were squabbling over… something. He tried never to get between the two women unless absolutely necessary. They were both vicious fighters and he had no desire to tangle with either of them. The thought of the two of them ganging up on him if he slighted one of them was even worse.

“Jorri!” He flinched before he could catch himself. Turning he plastered a friendly smile on his face.

“Kebiin, what can I do for you?” The man’s eyes narrowed on him and he swallowed. Stars above he could drown in that gaze.

“Show me.” He glanced around and caught a few of their other squad mates watching them, snickering to themselves.

The bastards.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll just be reporting in to-” He turned to walk away but didn’t fight when a hand landed on his shoulder, hard.

“I know you’re injured, you’re always injured.” He scoffed.

“I’m fine, nothing big.” The trip had been pretty uneventful this time. He could only remember two incidents that had caused him any pain.

“So you are injured! I knew it. Damned scouts always rushing headfirst into the first dangerous thing they see.” The man grumbled as he steered Jorri over to his tent. Jorri’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he was dragged inside and pushed to sit down. “Stay there.” Kebiin ordered in his medic voice. With a cheeky grin he gave the man a quick salute, which just seemed to annoy him further. But he knew that it wasn’t anything to do with him. Whenever Kebiin was in medic mode he was all business, even as his hands remained gentle and eyes concerned.

“Okay, show me so we can get this over with.” Snorting in amusement he slipped off his boot and unlaced the bottom half of his trouser leg. Beneath the thick fabric was a large spreading bruise that was painful but manageable if he’d had to go without medical treatment for a while. Kebiin let out a low hiss, drawing Jorri’s eyes to his lips.

“That looks painful. Did you use use something to numb the area or dull your pain?” Soft eyes stared straight into his soul and Jorri swore he couldn’t breathe for a second.

“I have the kolto infused ointment they give us for the field. It only started to hurt again when I got closer to camp.” It was best not to lie when the medic was in this state. He tended to get snippy before wilting and guiltily apologizing for his behavior. Jorri hated when he did that. He preferred it when Kebiin sent verbal barbs back at him.

“I have something a bit stronger that can reduce the pain and the swelling.” Getting up he went into one of his bags and carefully moved items out of his way until he found what he was looking for. Jorri leaned back on his elbows, more or less lounging with his leg sticking out. The medic turned to look at him and paused, just for a moment, before moving again. Dipping his fingers into a pot of dark green mush he carefully applied it to the dark bruise on Jorri’s leg. The mush was cold but with Kebiin’s fingers gently massaging it into his skin it quickly began to heat up. A sense of relief hit him as the pain began to fade. Letting out a pleased sigh he relaxed further.

“That feels real nice, Saviin.” _‘Violet.’_ The nickname he’d given the man in his mind rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself. He winced internally at the slip. He knew that others had harassed him for his oddly colored eyes before. Eyes that had paled when he drank the elixir, rather than darkening or becoming more vibrant. No one was really sure who Kebiin’s parents had been but Peony thought that he was a second or third generation Fae. The medic had studied under her for a time and had an affinity for plants and healing that was rare in the Gaarla Clan.

Kebiin’s fingers stopped for a moment, hovering over his leg, as he looked directly into Jorri’s eyes. Giving him an apologetic smile he waited for the medic to chide him. Instead he was met with a look full of uncertainty, disappointment, and a perhaps even a little hurt. Kicking himself for being such an idiot he sat up a little.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that… I’m sorry.” Claws and feathers, his face felt hot with embarrassment. “I really like your eyes. Honest. They’re… kind.” His face flushed further when the medic’s eyes widened slightly before he began to blush as well.

“Just stop talking and let me finish my work.” Firmly shutting his fool mouth he nodded and leaned back again, not wanting to antagonize the medic further. “And… thank you.” The words were barely over a whisper but Jorri had exceptional hearing. He couldn’t help but to smile in response.

[Kebiin]

For the past two months of the campaign he had found his medical tent invaded by a certain accident prone advanced scout. If he didn’t know better he would have thought the scout was getting wounded on purpose. But Kebiin didn’t begrudge him, this was new territory with dangers they couldn’t predict. Like the strange plant creature that had decided to latch onto Jorri’s arm and eat through his sleeve. Thankfully beskar’gam was naturally resistant to even the strongest of acids so the damage was minor. The grimace on the scout’s face as he’d had to carefully remove his bracer and sat there glaring at his half dissolved tunic was comical as hell though.

Then the tunic came off and Kebiin found it hard to breathe. For a moment he’d forgotten how dangerous a scout’s life was, and how fit they had to be to keep up with the job. Pale patches that marked numerous scars crossed the man’s pecs and down his well defined abs. On his left side there looked to be the healed remnants of a particularly nasty gash that looked to be a near fatal blow.

His body shook for a moment at the sudden desire to run his hands all over that marked skin.

“Are you… alright?” The almost cautious question snapped him out of his lust filled haze and he colored in response. Some medic he was, eying up his patient.

“I’m fine… there is surprisingly little damage. You did the right thing shoving your arm into that river.” He commented quickly as he sat next to his patient and began to treat the burn. “I’m not sure if that thing was venomous or not, you should stay here for observation.” The scout stiffened slightly before laughing.

“I’ll be fine. If it was venomous I’d know by now.” He scowled but didn’t try to push. It was hard enough getting the warriors to sit still through actual dangerous injuries. He didn’t want to scare the scout off by being too pushy. “Hey.” He looked up from where he was bandaging the man’s arm and was met with a sunny smile that made him want to melt. “You take care of yourself too, alright? We can be down a scout. We can’t be down a medic.” Kebiin glowered at him.

“Don’t be a fool.” He said, winding the bandage a little too tightly and earning himself a wince of pain before he relented and gentled his hands. “Scouts are just as important, and don’t you forget it.” He said in a voice that suggested the matter was closed. Jorri chuckled and it rumbled through his chest in a way that shook his entire body.

“You’re the boss.” He said playfully as Kebiin’s hands finally released him. “Am I good to go?”

“Yes. Make sure you come see me early tomorrow so I can make sure the medicine is working. If it starts to burn or itch come to me immediately.” Looking away as the man pulled a new tunic from his his kit, Evaan had been kind enough to grab it for him, he busied himself with checking his stock of medicines and resorting them.

He didn’t quite let out a sigh of relief when the scout finally left but it was a close thing. Stars, he wanted to scale that man like a tree. A wholly inappropriate thing to think about one of his patients.

Hearing yelling from outside he stuck his head out of the tent and watched Jorri dancing around Evaan as her twin , Eviin, chased him with a giant grin on her face. Evaan tripped the poor scout and laughed when her sister jumped onto Jorri’s back, letting out a victory cry. The three of them looked as if they were all having a good time and Kebiin couldn’t help but to chuckle at their antics. If his eyes lingered on the scout’s smiling face and bright eyes for a little longer than the Ta’rayd twins well… everyone was far too distracted to have noticed.

He ducked back into the tent and looked over at his portable writing desk. He still had much work to do. Had to document the injuries and how much medicine he’d been using so they could send him more when he ran low.

“Better get back to it then.”

[Jorri]

The campaign was almost over. They’d all be heading back to Manda’yaim once the last vestiges of the rebellion had been routed. He felt bad for the poor rebels, he could see the poor conditions they had been living with, but these people were aruetiise. The army had been hired to fight them and that is exactly what they would do.

It was rare that Mand’alor Fett sold his army’s services but from what he’d heard it had been some part of a negotiation deal. No one knew what the Mandalore got in return, besides monetary compensation, but it had to be important. Fett wasn’t someone who did things frivolously. Every move he made on the political board was to benefit his people. Of that Jorri had no doubt.

For the time being Jorri’s task was over. Unless they needed him to scout out a new hide-out he would be hanging back with the bulk of their forces.

Unfortunately that meant he was in a constant state of near boredom. Fortunately that meant he had time to work on his secret project and offer to help a certain medic with his patients. On the plus side his lack of being injured made Kebiin smile at him a lot more. Unfortunately that meant he had a hard time focusing and had made himself look like an idiot more than once.

It was a mixed bag of blessings and curses.

Humming to himself he dragged the bucket he’d been handed through the small stream near the edge of camp. Kebiin had asked him to fetch water for some medicinal infusions, which he was more than happy to do. The sun was shining, there were birds in the air, and the wind felt nice as it swept through his hair. The cool water in the river was sparkling and once he’d filled the bucket he set it aside and cupped his hands in the steam, bringing the cool water to his lips.

Of course it was at that moment that everything good went to the void.

He didn’t notice the enemy until they were on him, tackling him to the ground with a snarl and the flash of a short blade. Jorri screamed in pain and rage as he punched his attacker in the side of the head. A small knife hidden in his bracer slammed into their temple and they toppled forward, dead. Throwing the body off him he took a deep breath.

“Ambush!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. “West, near the stream!” Warning given he rolled over onto his front and choked on a cry of pain. Looking at the long gash down his chest he cursed. Scouts weren’t given any armor in the field. They had to be able to move quickly and silently, with nothing to weigh them down. The only piece of armor they were allowed to have with them were their bracers. They were too useful not to keep and they were one of the first pieces given to a child by the clan, which meant that the clan symbol was etched into them. It also made identifying a corpse much easier.

Before he could get to his feet something slammed into his back, forcing him back to the ground with a curse. Looking back and up he saw a sword being raised but didn’t have any time to even think about a counter before an arrow buried itself in the rebel’s throat. They stumbled and he bucked them off.

“Jorri!” He wished he could say he was happy to hear that voice but he wasn’t.

“Kebiin! Get back to camp! Now!” Pale purple eyes hardened as the medic threw down his bow, racing toward him. Reaching for his belt he pulled out his chekal, a long thin dagger made of beskar with a cylindrical hilt and an oddly rounded blade. It was designed to slip between the gaps of a warrior’s armor in order to grant them riye’kyr- a merciful death. All medics carried one just in case.

Kebiin flew past him, knocking a rebel to the ground and stabbing another in the armpit. Jorri got his hands beneath him and with a hiss of pain finally forced himself to his feet. As he did he heard, more than saw, the arrows speeding past him. In an instant Kebiin was there, shoulder under his arm and arm around his waist.

“Come on!” With a grimace he let the medic lead him away as more of their warriors came to finish off the last of the ambush.

Back in camp he was set down gently on a stool. Kebiin vanished and he had a moment to go over everything that had happened before the man returned. “How did you know I was in trouble?” He asked as the medic set down his bag and started rummaging through it for bandages and whatever else.

“I sent you to fetch water out of the barrel outside, not all the way out to the stream. When you didn’t return immediately I realized what had happened and went to get you.” Jorri winced. He felt like such an idiot now. “Lucky you did go to the stream, though, otherwise we wouldn’t have found out about the ambush until it was too late.” Finally satisfied with what he had gathered he turned and reached for Jorri’s tunic.

Panic set in. “Ah, no, wait!” Kebiin glared at him.

“Are you crazy? I can see the blood. Just let me do my job.” Grabbing his tunic the medic forced it over his head. Jorri was in too much pain to stop him and flinched as the item he had been trying to hide, that he had shoved into his tunic earlier, clattered to the ground. Kebiin frowned but his eyes were on the gash across his chest, ignoring whatever it was in favor of studying the wound.

He relaxed. Maybe Kebiin would forget about it by the time he was done and Jorri could hide it before he found out. He winced as the medic cleaned the wound and sighed in relief as the numbing agent began to work. “It looks worse than it actually is. You’ll be in pain for a while but it’s not that deep. You may not even scar.” He said with a relieved smile, the palm of his hand warm against Jorri’s skin.

“Oh, good. I have enough scars already.” He joked. Kebiin started wrapping his wound, leaning forward so he could reach behind him. They were almost chest to chest and Jorri held his breath, before he groaned and let it out again in a whoosh. Fuck that was painful! He hadn’t even meant to use his blessing but he had subconsciously wanted to feel more of the other man.

“Are you alright? I’m not wrapping it too tight am I?” He smiled reassuringly.

“Ah, no, just hurts. I’m fine.” The medic’s eyes narrowed slightly but he didn’t comment as he finished with the last of the bandages. Finally stepping away from him Kebiin went about tidying up the mess he had made. Jorri took a moment to watch his nimble fingers as they wound the remaining bandages back up.

Taking a step back something clattered and the man looked down at what he had stepped on. Jorri looked down as well and caught sight of a white handle. Panic shot up his spine as the medic reached down and picked it up.

“What’s this?” Jorri’s heart was beating against his ribcage and he found himself unable to speak. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Kebiin ran his fingers over the bone handle of the medicine knife, trailing over the feathers of the carved swallows that adorned the hilt. “It’s beautiful.” He said quietly. “Swallows are my favourite animal.” The small pleased smile on his face and the light in his eyes were enough to kick Jorri’s brain back into gear. Just enough to speak, but not enough to be smart.

“I know. It’s for you.” Kebiin froze in place, fingers tightening around the knife. All of a sudden his face turned a dark shade of red.

“Wh-what?” If he hadn’t been so embarrassed himself he would have laughed at how the medic’s voice had risen to a high pitched squeak.

Well. He couldn’t take his words back now. Might as well go forward with it.

[Kebiin]

Standing there in the middle of the bustling camp, his hand clenched tight around an artfully carved, bone handled, medicine knife, Kebiin tried to understand the words that were being said to him. He didn’t even notice when the two of them became the center of attention, many of the warriors nearby nudging each other and grinning.

“I started carving it a month ago.” The scout said with a bright smile, hands clasped in front of him the only hint that he was nervous. “Not sure if you remember telling me that you loved swallows but I, uh…” He motioned toward the knife, as if that explained everything.

“Jorri…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “This is a courting gift.” The scout swallowed anxiously, his ears red.

“It is. I, uh, I’m not quite done yet though. Still had to put a few finishing touches on it. Was planning on talking to you when we were closer to home. But, uh, looks like you found it so, uh...” The man was babbling now, his eyes wide and pleading, chest heaving.

“I accept.” Jorri’s mouth fell open in shock, as if he couldn’t believe it. The scout stood up suddenly, his face glowing with a sunny smile, before the pain hit him and he cringed. “Oh, sit down!” He huffed, putting his fist on his hip to scold the fool scout. “You’ll hurt yourself.” Clutching the knife in one hand he reached into his bag and pulled out a small ceramic bottle. “Take a swallow of this and it should ease the pain. It won’t magically heal your wound but you’ll be able to move without wincing.”

Jorri took the bottle and gulped down a mouthful before handing it back. Their fingers brushed against one another and they both smiled shyly at one another.

“It’s about damn time!” Someone called out. Kebiin looked toward the voice, confused, and realized that they were the center of attention. Horrified that everyone had seen their exchange he felt his face burn and glanced at Jorri. The scout’s face was no better.

“They’re going to be insufferable after this.” The scout muttered.

“They weren’t before?” He asked. Jorri laughed and it was a sound Kebiin knew would never grow old.

“Good point.” He grinned. “Why don’t you help me back to my tent, I need to lay down.” Someone whistled. “Oh shut up!” Laughter erupted around them as he helped Jorri to stand once again. “You’ll have to let me finish that knife later. I don’t want to give you something less than perfect. You deserve my best.” Kebiin chuckled.

“Jorri, it’s already perfect. It was made by you.” For the first time since he’d met Jorri he found himself smirking in triumph as he rendered the scout absolutely speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a;
> 
> Chekal- Stabbing blade. Similar in design to a Rondel or Misericorde. It is meant to deal a fatal blow between the gaps of armor.  
> Riye’kyr- Mercy death. When a warrior is too wounded to live but their death would last hours, or if they are in agony, they would be granted a merciful death.


End file.
